


Say my name

by dunklenacht310



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Zayn, Burlesque, Crossdressing, Detective AU, FBI inspired, Gay Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Rough Sex, Stripping, Top Harry, but just in one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: “You didn’tletme win” Harry specifies “You gave yourself away. And I was there to notice”“It was about time you finally noticed something” Zayn smiles.“I did. And in the end I got a honour mention at the NCA”Zayn keeps smiling. “If only they knew how much it cost you.”-NCA Agent Harry Styles hates being close to failing to solve a case. He's never,neverfailed.When a series of murders he's investigating reveals itself to be linked to a series of bank robberies, and Harry doesn't have any leads, he's forced to ask for the help of the most famous bank robber in the country.His name is Zayn Malik, and Harry doesn't like him. Not even a little.





	1. The Chameleon

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, on with the disclaimers. They're important so please read them!
> 
> As you will surely notice, the whole dynamic behind this fic was inspired to the concept of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit. The credits for the way the NCA unit will work in this fic go to one of my favourite shows, Criminal Minds. It is NOT a crossover, though. Just inspired to.
> 
> For those who might not know, the NCA (National Crime Agency) is a British police agency that deals with serious and/or organised crime in the UK. The police unit in this fic, the BIU, does NOT exist in the NCA agency. I made it up for the sake of the plot, and it's inspired to what I mentioned above.
> 
> There is a crossdressing tag for this fic. It's there because as you can see in the character list, Veronica Malik will make an appearance. She is important to the plot, but the crossdressing scene will NOT be a sex scene, so don't expect that.
> 
> And finally, usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work, but I do own the plot and the original characters.

Harry doesn’t think his day can go worse than this, and it’s only ten in the morning.

And yet, the day gets worse as he gets inside the NCA building after being called on his day off.

When he was appointed supervisory special agent for the newly founded Behavioural Investigation Unit in the NCA, he didn’t think much of it. He accepted, because they gave him freedom to form his own team, and he knew just the people. ‘People’ being Niall, Liam and Louis, of course.

He thought it was cool, that the NCA founded its own behavioural unit, a bit like the FBI, and deemed _him_ , of all people, fit to lead it.

He didn’t think he’d find himself hunting down serial killers _for real_ , though.

And yet, that’s what he does on a daily basis.

Sometimes it’s just fraudulent motherfuckers robbing banks in the whole state, until NCA puts Harry on their tails because the robbers are just too good.

Most of the time, though, it’s serial killers.

Either way, Harry never fails to find the people responsible and bring them to justice.

In that moment, though, with the third murder freshly committed and Harry close to zero leads, he feels a bit like he’s failing.

He goes up the steps of the first floor and gets inside their team’s reunion room.

Louis, Liam and Niall are already there, staring at the pictures for the new case and noting things down in their notepads. Harry knows it’s useless; they don’t have any leads, and he doubts they’re noting down anything new.

“Hey” Louis greets him with a sigh.

“Morning” Harry replies “What… what do we have?”

Niall zooms on the pictures, reading from his notepad. “Amber Reese, 25. Stabbed once to the stomach in her house in Liverpool, coroner says approximately between 9 and 10 a.m. today, left to bleed out on her bed. Her body is completely painted in shades of green, reproducing a camouflage pattern”

Harry stares at the photo of the victim, lying on her bed, stomach up. As the other two victims—Gretchen Waters and Linda Holmes—, she’s only wearing her underwear, and her whole body is indeed painted in a camo pattern.

“It’s the third body we have in Liverpool. It’s officially a serial murderer” Liam supplies.

Harry nods. “Any clues in the house as to what the fuck this means?” he asks.

Louis shakes his head. “No. Absolutely zero evidence on the crime scene, same as for the two other victims”

Harry nods again, suppressing the umpteenth sigh. “Okay. I think it’s time we head to Liverpool. This is not a case we can solve from London, we need to be on the scene” he tells them “Any people of interest we can speak to, for Amber Reese?”

Niall nods. “Mother and father, they were at work when the body was found, half an hour ago. They’re on their way to the precinct”

“Okay. We should leave as soon as we can. Niall, please let NCA know we need the jet to fly to Liverpool. I…”

There’s a knock on the door. They all raise their head, and see a very young officer, probably in her twenties, sheepishly clearing her throat.

Harry has to hold back a chuckle. They’re not even _that_ old, Louis is the oldest of them and he’s thirty-three, but they’re considered a bit of a fucking _élite_ in the NCA hierarchy. Harry thinks that it’s just because the team has existed for something like three years, based on an FBI model, and since it’s been founded, they have a total of zero unsolved cases. It must be really something, mustn’t it.

“Yes?” he asks the officer.

She clears her throat again, like she’s afraid of speaking. Harry wishes this thing about the BIU being intimidating would stop. “SSA Styles. We… we have a case in the Fraud Department. They’ve asked me to come fetch you”

Harry has to restrain from rolling his eyes. “Officer…”

“Malone”

“Officer Malone” Harry repeats “The BIU is about to leave for a murder case. I’m sure the FD will be peachy without me”

Officer Malone shakes her head. “I don’t think so, SSA Styles. You _really_ wanna see this, believe me. But you won’t like it, not even a little”

There’s worry and urgency in Officer Malone’s demeanour, and Harry exchanges a quick glance with Niall, Louis and Liam. “Okay” he says at last “Let’s go see what this is about before we leave”

They all nod, and stand up, following Harry who is in turn following Officer Malone.

As they walk across the floor, Harry can see everybody stare at them.

He rolls his eyes, and Niall starts humming the _Ghostbusters_ tune under his breath. Louis snorts and hits Niall on the back of the head. Harry, despite himself, laughs.

When they enter the Fraud Department wing, Harry sees a bit of a commotion going on. There’s people shouting at each other to be quicker, a high quantity of screens playing some footage from a robbery or two, more people screaming.

“Jesus Christ, and we were being all calm and collected for a serial killer” Louis whistles.

Harry elbows him in the ribs. “Shut up. This must be bad”

Officer Malone nods. “It is. Oh, boy, it is”

She guides them towards an office, the Head of the FD’s office if Harry’s not mistaken. When they get inside, there’s a group of ten people sitting around a circular table, and a screen playing three bank robbery footages at once.

“Agent Kreis, I brought Agent Styles” Officer Malone announces.

The man called Kreis sighs in relief. “Thank God. Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. But fuck” he says, standing up “Agent Styles. I’m very sorry to disturb you, I’m told you’re working on a triple homicide. But I really think you need to see this. And you might want to sit”

“What’s all this mystery for?” Louis asks harshly “We…”

“Sit, please” Agent Kreis almost begs them.

Harry pats Louis on the arm, meaning _Tune it down, the man’s freaking the fuck out_ , and then he takes one of the seats in front of the screen, while Louis, Liam and Niall do the same.

Agent Kreis heaves a sigh, and plays the footage.

The dates and times of the bank robberies say _March 13 th, Wednesday, 8,00_; _March 16 th, Saturday, 7,30_; and _March 20, Wednesday, 8,10_. They all took place in Liverpool.

Harry frowns, and looks at Louis, finding him looking back at him. “They match city, date and time of our murders” he says.

Harry nods.

And then he has a fucking heart attack.

When he watches the robberies, he sees the lone robber dressed in three different ways. He’s got a Jack The Ripper costume for the first robbery, complete with makeup. A stable boy costume for the second one. And a Batman’s Joker attire for the third.

“Fuck” Niall hisses “Harry…”

Harry nods, and turns to look at Kreis. “Why are you showing me this, Agent Kreis?” he asks, as coldly as possible, feeling his heart hammer its way out of his chest, and hoping it doesn’t show in his voice.

Agent Kreis is kinda shaking. “Because these robberies have been committed in the Chameleon’s style, Agent Styles”

“The Chameleon is in prison, two years into the ten-year sentence he got. I put him there” Harry replies.

_The Chameleon. The Chameleon. The fucking Chameleon._

Agent Kreis nods. “I know, I know. But those are his costumes, aren’t they? And, Agent Styles. These robberies have been perpetrated shortly before your recent homicides, in the same city. I don’t know if there’s a connection, but…”

“There is” Harry replies, surely, a piece of the puzzle clicking in his head. He turns to look at Niall, Louis and Liam. “The camouflage painting. It’s a fucking symbol. The murderer is referring to the fucking Chameleon”

They don’t reply. Louis looks at Harry with a bit of a frown, and so do Niall and Liam. They know what the Chameleon means. They’ve always known.

Harry stands up. “Very well. Agent Kreis, I do think the robberies and my murders are linked. So the BIU will take the case, if you don’t mind. I kindly ask you to keep yourself available on the phone if I have any questions”

Agent Kreis nods. “Yes, yes, for sure, Agent Styles”

Harry nods. “In the meantime, I will go fetch the Chameleon to see if he knows anything” he adds “And let’s all stop calling him the Chameleon. Giving nicknames to criminals only amplifies their ego. He’s got a name. He’s called Zayn Malik”

*

“Harry, I can go” Louis says for maybe the hundredth time since they left the NCA building to drive to the prison.

Harry chuckles. “Louis, for the hundredth time. _I_ need to speak to Zayn Malik. I put him behind the bars, and if he’s involved in any way or can help us solve this fucking mess, he’ll only speak to _me_ ”

“Or not” Louis replies stubbornly “Do you really think that after…”

“Yes” Harry interrupts him, because he doesn’t need to hear it, now “Yes, because I spoke to our director, and he said that if all fails I can offer Zayn Malik only one more year of sentence, instead of the eight he still has to go now”

“What?” Niall hisses.

“Yep” Harry nods, feeling his guts melt a little.

Zayn Malik has been Harry’s greatest accomplishment, and his biggest failure.

He’d literally just been appointed supervisory agent for the brand new BIU, and the Chameleon had almost escaped Harry’s grip. _Almost_.

In the end, with a lot of suffering, Harry had been able to catch him and arrest him.

He’s been in prison ever since, and Harry has basked in the triumph of catching the cleverest, most dangerous lone bank robber in the country.

Press called Zayn Malik ‘The Chameleon’ for his ability to always show up in a new attire, a costume worthy of some fucking Hollywood movie every time, concealing his identity so well that Harry had spent _months_ running after him without being able to even identify him.

Then, the Chameleon had taken a false step. And Harry had been there to catch him in his net.

The Chameleon and SSA Harry Styles had become a nemesis concept, in the NCA. Harry had overheard conversations around the building more than once where people just casually said things like “I swear, I hate him so much that he’s the Chameleon to my Harry Styles”.

If only they knew what that meme had cost.

“He’s gonna speak to me” Harry assures his friends for the last time, as they get out of the car and inside the prison building “And if he doesn’t want to, the smell of freedom will make him”

They get to the guard at the entrance, and Harry shows his badge, unnecessarily because the guard seems to have already recognized them, judging by the way he’s gaping.

“Good morning” Harry says cheerfully, while he feels a bit like throwing up “I need to speak to Zayn Malik”

\--

> When SSA Harry Styles arrested Zayn, Zayn felt a bit like he was losing everything, and a bit like he was winning the ultimate battle.
> 
> Because he got caught, yes, but he’d almost beat the most promising agent at the NCA.
> 
> That, of course, didn’t make things any easier when SSA Harry Styles tightened his cuffs around Zayn’s wrists.

\--

“SSA Harry fucking Styles”

Zayn Malik is not sitting, and he’s not cuffed. Prison procedure doesn’t call for high-standard security protocol during visits to theft offenders.

So, when Harry gets into the private visiting room, Zayn Malik is standing with his back against the wall, clothed in a standard prison uniform. A blue t-shirt under a grey jumper, and grey sweatpants.

His hair is still long, like when Harry arrested him two years earlier. But now it’s shaved at the sides, and it’s held up in a tight topknot. His beard has probably been shaved two weeks earlier, tops. Harry wonders if theft offenders don’t have haircut restrictions, or if Zayn Malik gained a right to decide his own haircut with good behaviour, or something.

Zayn Malik grins as he says Harry’s name in a mocking tone, like he can’t believe his fucking eyes.

Neither does Harry.

If someone told him that morning when he woke up, that he would end up seeing Zayn Malik again, he would have laughed his arse off.

“Hello, Zayn” Harry says, sitting at the table in the middle of the room.

Zayn keeps grinning, and he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning his back against the wall. “You miss me already?”

Harry smiles. “Not at all” he replies “I’m here on official NCA business. You might want to sit”

“I don’t know if I can stand being so close to you” Zayn comments pensively “After all, you ruined my fucking life”

Harry shrugs. “You ruined it by yourself when you started being a bank robber with a flair for the dramatic. Which is the reason I’m here today”

Zayn chuckles. “My flair for the dramatic?”

“Yep” Harry answers, taking out the pictures he printed from selected frames of the recent bank robbery footage. He carefully places them on the table, pointed in Zayn’s direction.

Zayn frowns, and Harry internally cheers. “What the _fuck_ are these horrible costumes?” he asks, immediately getting closer to the table and examining the pictures, without sitting.

Harry looks up at him, and smiles angelically. “Are these not your costumes?”

Zayn snorts. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” he exclaims “These costumes are horribly sewn, the makeup’s all wrong, the fucking _posture_ is all wrong. I’m an _artist_ , Harry Styles. This person is trying to imitate me, and they’re doing a really fucking lame job at it. I’m sure they couldn’t even fool _you_ ”

Harry doesn’t reply. It’s true, though. Harry spent months and months of his life studying the Chameleon’s style, costumes, makeup, because the attires were so fucking good they _had_ to mean something more than just a way to conceal his identity. They did. Harry had realized what exactly they meant shortly before finally catching Zayn Malik.

Zayn stares at the pictures and Harry some more, and then he sighs, sitting on the chair across from Harry and entwining his own fingers on the table. “What’s this about?”

“There’s someone trying to imitate you. You don’t happen to know anything about it, do you?”

Zayn chuckles. “Harry Styles. I’ve been locked up in here like a good boy for two years. And even before that, I always worked alone, and you know better than anyone, don’t you? I hear we’ve become quite the nemesis meme. You’re the Batman to my Joker, Harry Styles. You know me better than you know yourself. So you must know I can’t have anything to do with this”

It’s true, Harry knows. Zayn never had an accomplice for his bank heists, he always worked alone. There’s no chance this person could ever be his ally, or disciple, or something like that.

Harry sighs. “Yes. I know”

“Then what is this really about? Something’s bothering you, Harry Styles. You’re doing your thing with your lower lip. Nervous tics are bad for your image of a perfect agent, you know that, right?”

It’s a low blow, and Harry would have honestly used it as well, in Zayn’s shoes. He realizes he’s indeed worrying his lower lip between his thumb and index, and he immediately stops, entwining his own fingers on the table like Zayn’s doing.

Zayn smiles cheerfully, waiting for a reply. Harry hates him with a passion, and not only because Zayn Malik has been closer than any criminal to being the only stain on Harry’s perfect, immaculate case-solving record.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, then” Harry says.

Zayn scoffs. “Would be a first”

“The pot calling the kettle black” Harry retorts instantly, and regrets it, because Zayn chuckles, a small victorious smirk on his lips, like he’s proud of himself for having been able to strike a nerve.

Harry decidedly doesn’t think about Zayn Malik almost meaning the failure of Harry Styles as an agent, and resumes a blank expression.

“Do you wanna hear what I have to say?” Harry asks him “Otherwise, I can go. And you can keep doing your remaining eight years”

Zayn’s attention perks up a bit at that. “I’m listening”

Harry grins. The smell of something about his sentence did the trick. It always does. “I have a serial killer on the loose. The murders have been committed shortly after these three heists in which the robber used _your_ style. Moreover, the victims of the murders were found completely covered in green paint, in a camouflage pattern”

“The Chameleon” Zayn murmurs, frowning “They’re hinting to me?”

Harry nods. “Yes. Now, I know you don’t have anything to do with neither the murders nor the robberies. Or, at least, I believe so for the moment. You never know how things can change”

Zayn stares at Harry, and doesn’t comment on that. Harry’s kinda grateful.

“But” he keeps speaking “It’s evident that the murderer wants to involve you in some way. And for all I know, the robber and the murderer might even be the same person. And if you’ve been involved, I need your help to find this person. We never divulged details about any of your costumes to the press. They only got pictures of the Doctor Jekyll/Mr. Hyde one, and your random appearances as an old man, a sexy secretary, and a nurse”

Zayn grins. “Did you think my secretary attire was sexy? I even had a name for her. Veronica Malik” he comments.

Harry ignores him. “It means this person _knows_ you, Zayn” he says, seriously “They know details about your costumes that never made it to be public knowledge”

“A loss for humanity, I’m sure” Zayn sighs “My costumes were all spectacular. I’ll try to console myself with the fact that at least you know all of them, Harry Styles”

“This is _serious_ , Zayn!” Harry exclaims, feeling close to losing his patience “You could be more involved that just being used as a symbol or something. You could be a fucking _target_ ”

“Aw, are you worried for me?” Zayn smiles, batting his absurdly long eyelashes, but Harry can see a small frown taking place on his forehead, like he’s being a shithead, but he’s also understanding the problem at hand.

“Help me catch the murderer and the robber, or just the one person, if they’re one and the same” Harry keeps going “If you help the BIU, your sentence will be reduced. You’ll only have one more year instead of eight”

Zayn’s grin disappears instantly. He becomes very serious, his shoulders rigid, and he doesn’t speak for a long moment, while he and Harry just assess each other.

Then, Zayn puts his hands flat on the table, and leans over so that his face is closer to Harry. Harry’s eyes never leave Zayn’s, but he’s hit with a whiff of a cologne he learned to recognize at the end of his hunting of the Chameleon.

“What’s the catch, Harry Styles?” Zayn asks in a whisper “You don’t just come here and ask for my help and offer me seven years off my sentence”

Harry smiles. “The catch is that you’ll be glued to my fucking hip, and we’ll come to loathe each other even more than we already do”

*

Zayn is in a great mood when Harry brings him to retrieve his belongings from the prison guard at the entrance, after filling all the paperwork to take Zayn out for the time being, under the role of consultant for an NCA investigation.

“Feels like dress rehearsal for the day I’ll get the fuck out of here” he comments, winking at the guard who hands him a box with his things.

Harry scoffs. “Slow down. If you’re useless for the investigation, or if you try even the smallest trick, your arse gets back in here for the rest of your _real_ sentence”

Zayn doesn’t reply, but his grin falls a little, and Harry almost wants to kick himself for feeling guilty of dampening Zayn’s mood.

 _Fucking hell, Harry, he’s a convicted criminal and the fact that he’s fit doesn’t mean you have to empathise with him_.

Zayn _is_ fit, though. Not that Harry never noticed. It’s been two years since he saw him last, but he would be lying if he said he never thought about Zayn Malik.

Harry probably thinks about Zayn Malik every other day. When he’s lucky.

Zayn grins again when he opens the box and retrieves a pair of black skinny jeans, a Batman sweater, his wallet, a pair of combat boots, his phone. He turns the device on, and stares at it a little. It doesn’t ping with any notification. Zayn shrugs, and hands the phone to Harry, or better, slaps it against his chest. “A gift for you. I don’t need it”

Harry stares at the iPhone Zayn is giving him. “What?”

“You still have that shitty old phone, don’t you?” Zayn asks, without looking at him. He’s going through the cards and cash in his wallet.

Harry feels a bit embarrassed that Zayn remembers such a small detail about the cop who arrested him, but it’s really like Batman and the Joker, isn’t it? They’ve circumnavigated around each other so much that they _know_ each other.

Harry is not just a cop to Zayn, and Zayn is not just a bank robber to Harry.

 _No no no, stop that thought right there, don’t you fucking dare even_ think _this_ , he tells himself.

“Keep the phone. I don’t have a family. I literally only used it ‘cause I needed to call my bank and make sure nobody stole my money” Zayn says with another grin, and a wink.

_He really doesn’t have a family?_

“I am not gonna use a criminal’s phone” Harry declares, ignoring the bit about Zayn being completely and utterly alone for some reason.

“Then give it to your friend. The Irish one who works with you. He’ll appreciate the beauty of one of the latest Apple products. Well, latest as of two years ago, but still”

“Niall?” Harry asks, trying not to gape.

Zayn notices anyway. “I remember everything” he says, and his tone is a bit too serious for Harry’s own good, so he doesn’t reply.

Zayn finally devotes his attention to the Batman sweater, and he sighs happily, kissing the logo on the front. “I missed you more than good, kinky sex” he tells the sweater.

Harry rolls his eyes, and his insides do something funny. Maybe he’s hungry. It’s not at all imagining Zayn Malik having sex. Why the _fuck_ would he even imagine that?

Zayn doesn’t have any decency, apparently, because he starts stripping in the middle of the room until he’s down to his boxers, and then takes an absurdly long time to slide on his jeans, and put on the fucking sweater.

“You could have gone to the bathroom” Harry mutters.

Zayn laughs. “It was more fun this way. You're a blusher”

“Go fuck yourself”

“Maybe I will when I’m free” Zayn retorts, batting his fucking eyelashes.

“Are you done?” Harry sighs impatiently “We have a jet to take as soon as possible”

Zayn sighs too, and then grins. “A guest of the NCA royalty. How the tables have turned for teeny, tiny me”

Harry doesn’t reply, but he thinks Zayn is anything but teeny and tiny, and he fucking knows.

*

“I hate him”

“I hate him more”

“You’re only saying you hate him ‘cause he’s already broken your Tekken 3 record _three times_ in half an hour, Liam”

“I think he’s a good egg, he only got too caught up in the glory of being a nicknamed criminal”

“Niall, how can you fucking _say_ this when Harry is _literally_ here making cof…”

“I think he can hear you” Zayn interrupts Louis’s, Niall’s and Liam’s banter without turning to look at them, too engrossed in the Tekken 3 match he’s playing on the tv of the jet.

Harry sighs. “Yes” he confirms, setting three mugs of coffee in front of his friends, and a mug of Yorkshire tea in front of Zayn.

Zayn sees the tea and he gapes a little, but graciously doesn’t comment on it. He only pauses the game, takes a sip, and his eyes roll back in his head. “I fucking _love_ Yorkshire” he just declares.

“Yeah” Harry sighs “Can we start preliminary analysis now?” he then asks his friends, colleagues, and misadventure companions on this one.

Zayn chuckles. “Oh, I love foreplay. That’s case foreplay, right?” he asks.

Niall snorts a laugh, and then promptly hides his face in his mug of coffee when Harry arches an eyebrow at him.

Zayn notices anyway, and grins. “How’re you finding the phone?” he asks Niall, jumping to sit on one of the jet armchair-seats with his feet under his arse. Harry’s lower eyelid twitches.

Niall grins too. “Mate, it’s _sick_! Like, the processor’s…”

“ _Preliminary analysis_ ” Harry growls.

Niall’s mouth snaps shut, and he even sends Zayn an apologetic glance.

Zayn laughs. “Don’t be so afraid of his growly voice” he says “He thinks he’s being intimidating. I just think it’s sexy”

Louis, Liam and Niall arch their eyebrows. At _Harry_ , not at Zayn.

“Preliminary analysis” Harry just repeats, pointedly ignoring all of them and focusing on spreading the case documentation on the table, in chronological order.

Zayn’s grin falls as soon as he sees the pictures of the victims, and Harry doesn’t find it in his heart to laugh about finally shutting him up.

Harry looks at Louis, and without further ado, Louis starts giving a recap of the murders.

“The first victim, Gretchen Waters, 24, was found in her house in Liverpool on March 13th at 11 a.m.” he says “Time of death estimated between 9 and 10 a.m. of the same day. She was in her bed, naked except for underwear, cause of death being one single stabbing wound to the stomach”

“She… she bled out” Zayn says in a whisper, his face a bit pale.

Harry is instinctively tempted of putting a hand on his shoulder, but of course he doesn’t.

Louis nods. “The body was painted post-mortem in a camouflage fantasy”

“Which brand of paint?” Zayn asks.

Harry frowns. “I don’t think it…”

“Which brand?” Zayn asks again, a bit louder.

Niall sighs and goes through his notes. “A brand of body paint called _Delight_ ” he says.

Zayn closes his eyes, and presses his fingertips to his temples. “That’s my body paint. The one I use. Well, used”

Harry’s stomach churns. “What? Fucking hell, I… not even _I_ know which kind of body paint you used for your attires. And I was in charge of your case”

“Yeah” Zayn sighs “This person, they… they really fucking _know_ me, don’t they”

Nobody replies for a moment. “Yes” Harry says at last “Well, they know the Chameleon. We never revealed your true face, name and identity. But we can’t exclude that they know that as well”

Zayn sighs and nods.

Then, Louis keeps going. “Second victim, Linda Holmes, 26. Found in her room on March 16th at 11,30 a.m. And the third victim, Amber Reese, 25, found yesterday, March 20th, in her room as well, at 11 a.m. Same modus operandi for both of them. No signs of sexual assault”

“Abiding by the bank footage and the autopsy reports, the murders have most likely been committed right after the bank heists” Liam supplies.

They don’t speak for a while. Harry stares at the photos of the victims, and he realizes something. He straightens his back. “They’re wearing glasses” he says “Isn’t it weird that they’re only wearing underwear _and glasses_? If they’ve been killed in their bed while they slept, they wouldn’t have been wearing glasses”

Zayn’s attention perks up at that, and he also starts staring at the pictures, his eyes darting from the photos of the bodies to the ones of the girls when they were alive. “They didn’t wear glasses at all” he says “Oh, fuck”

“What?” Harry asks.

“Look, Harry. They didn’t wear glasses when they were alive, there’s literally no picture of them with glasses” he taps his finger on some of the pictures “These are _my_ glasses. It’s the exact same kind on all three bodies. It’s the glasses I used when… um, when I was Veronica” he finishes, clearing his throat.

Louis frowns. “Veronica?”

“The secretary disguise” Harry explains, avoiding any eye contact with anyone.

“Well, technically they’re replicas” Zayn adds “None of these are mine. The manufactory sucks”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Fuck. Well. This is a zealot. This person is doing all of this because they want to catch your attention, Zayn. It’s someone who knows you in great detail, and who knew the only people who could make the connection to you were me and yourself”

Zayn nods.

“We need to find anyone who knew about your heists and your costumes” Niall says.

Zayn chuckles bitterly. “I have literally zero friends and zero family. No one knew about my heists. As for who knew about the costumes, you might have to interrogate the whole city of Liverpool”

“What do you mean?”

Zayn shrugs. “I worked as a makeup artist and costume designer at the _Red Cherry_. That’s where I learned to sew costumes and do professional makeup”

Harry feels his mouth go absurdly dry. “The… the strip club?”

“Burlesque club, Harry Styles, please” Zayn corrects “It was cool. Sometimes I even danced”

 _Jesus Christ_ , Harry thinks, his traitorous brain providing very detailed images of Zayn dressed as Veronica fucking Malik and stripping. “Why don’t I know about this?” he then asks, not even realizing he’s speaking out loud.

Zayn grins. “Because it was my life before I became the Chameleon” he says “Once upon a time I was just a costume designer. Then one day I needed the money, and everybody always said my costumes and makeup were so good it was literally impossible to recognize me. So I thought I’d give it a try and do a bank job dressed as Veronica. Turns out I really was impossible to recognize”

Louis nods. “You managed to rob a whole bank by yourself dressed as a fucking secretary”

“First of a long series of heists and costumes” Zayn sighs, extending his legs and putting his combat boot-clad feet on the table “I didn’t need more money after that first heist, but the feeling was… something else” he adds with a sparkle in his gaze “So I kept doing that. By my third robbery, the NCA put SSA Harry Styles on my tail. He was good. Took him no time to get close to me”

“But not close enough” Harry mutters, avoiding Zayn’s gaze.

He sees Zayn nod with his peripheral vision. “Never close enough” Zayn confirms “But you were always just one teeny tiny step behind me. The hunt got to my head. It was fun. So I kept doing my heists”

Harry doesn’t reply, but he sees Louis, Niall and Liam gape. “So you literally only kept robbing banks because it was fun to have Harry hunt you down?”

“Yep” Zayn grins “Then of course there’s the small detail of him catching me in the end. But well, SSA Harry Styles, I don’t regret letting you win. It was fun while it lasted”

Harry realizes he’s balled his fists under the table. _Fun? Fun? It wasn’t fucking_ fun _to me._ “Is the trip down memory lane over now?” he asks coldly.

Zayn stares at Harry, putting his feet down from the table, but Harry doesn’t look at him, his eyes seemingly glued to the documentation on the table.

They don’t reply. But Zayn’s words keep rolling and pulsing in Harry’s head, and in the end he can’t shut up anymore, and he finally raises his head to look at Zayn, finding him already staring at Harry in return. “You didn’t _let_ me win” Harry specifies “You gave yourself away. And me and my team here were there to notice”

Zayn smiles, but his smile is nervous and tight. “It was about time you finally noticed something”

Harry’s throat stings, and he thinks he’s about to cry for how _angry_ he is at Zayn Malik. Luckily, he manages to regain his composure, and smiles. “I did. And in the end you got ten years, and we got a honour mention at the NCA”

Zayn smiles too. “If only they knew how much it cost you” he sighs.

“Okay” Louis says coldly “I think that’s enough”

“I agree” Harry nods.

As quick as it came, the charged moment of tension blows away, and Zayn produces himself in another grin. Harry sees him wince a little and bend over to scratch inside his boot, where Harry knows his ankle monitor is. It is fucking bothering, and Harry knows for sure, seeing that he also has one now.

“This thing’s fucking annoying” Zayn comments.

Harry shrugs. “Maybe it’d be less annoying if you didn’t wear combat boots”

Zayn snorts. “I’ve worn fucking _sneakers_ for two years, Harry Styles. The only way I’ll get separated from my boots again is if I’m dead”

Harry rolls his eyes. “So fucking dramatic all the time”

“How does it even work?” Zayn asks, completely ignoring Harry’s comment, and frowning at the small ringlet around his ankle, where the light flashes green “I think I’m already pretty fucking far from the prison?”

Harry chuckles. “That’s ‘cause it’s not calibrated on the prison. It’s calibrated on _me_ ” he tells Zayn, raising the hem of his jeans to show Zayn their beautiful matching jewels “Go farther than five hundred meters from me, and not only this thing gives you a shock, but your arse gets back to prison before you can say Veronica Malik, too”

Zayn laughs. It’s not mocking, Harry doesn’t think so. It sounds like he honestly thinks what Harry said is funny. Harry has to do his best not to laugh in response. It’s just contagious, that’s all.

“Okay” he says at last “We land in an hour. When we do, Niall, you speak to Gretchen Waters’s and Linda Holmes’s families. Liam, you talk to Amber Reese’s family instead. Louis, you and I will talk to the directors of the three robbed banks, and we’ll try to find a connection with the victims. We should also talk to people working at the _Red Cherry_. I can’t believe this is just a coincidence, that all of this is happening in the same city Zayn used to work in. This is all too thought-out. There _has_ to be a connection”

They all nod. Harry doesn’t feel particularly like he’s their boss, considering that they’ve been friends for about ten years now, since they met at their first police training summer camp, way before they even enrolled in the NCA.

But on paper, he is their boss, so he has to direct them. And be first in line to take the blow if the BIU fails. It’s never happened until now. Harry plans on not letting it happen.

“What do I do?” Zayn asks, with another shit-eating grin.

Harry looks at him, and he has to restrain himself not to punch him in one of his perfect cheekbones. “You shut the fuck up” Harry declares “And you come with me and Louis. There’s no way you’re gonna leave my side” he adds, pointing at their ankle monitors.

“Sexy” Zayn comments with a wink.

Harry ignores him.


	2. The ruin of many a poor boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Zayn first spoke to SSA Harry Styles, he was impersonating himself, meaning that for once he wasn’t going around in a disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same disclaimers and warnings stated at the beginning of chapter one apply.

> When Zayn first caught sight of SSA Harry Styles, it was right after his third heist, and he’d just seen on the news that NCA had put their “most promising supervisory special agent” on his tail.
> 
> They said they deemed Harry Styles fit for the job.
> 
> Zayn saw Harry while he talked to the director of the bank he robbed three hours earlier, and he deemed Harry fit, period.
> 
> Zayn dared get closer, knowing that there was no way anyone would recognise him. He was just too damn good with his disguises. Right then, he looked like an old man, complete with felted clothes and wrinkles on his face.
> 
> He couldn’t hear the whole conversation between the bank director and SSA Harry Styles.
> 
> But he heard the last sentence spoken by the agent. “I’m gonna catch him very soon, rest assured”
> 
> Zayn grinned. _We’ll see about that, SSA Harry Styles_.

\--

They get to work as soon as they arrive in Liverpool.

Harry and Louis—and Zayn too—talk to the directors of the three robbed banks, who join them in the office that the Liverpool PD has kindly set up for Harry’s team.

They ask the three directors, Anderson, Gade and Preston, to give them a detailed recounting of the robberies. Harry and Louis are sitting in front of them at the desk. Zayn is sitting on an armchair, his feet placed on the coffee table. Harry’s eyelid twitches.

“It was the same for all three of us” Anderson says “He was dressed up with a costume, but I’m sure it was a man from the voice. He came inside the bank with a gun, and shouted at our employees to give him the money. Classic bank robbery, Agent Styles”

Harry hears Zayn chuckle. “Newbie”

He turns to look at Zayn. “What?”

Zayn shrugs. “That’s _not_ classic bank robbery. You don’t just go in there and shout. You don’t make unnecessary fuss” he says rolling his eyes “The ‘Give me your money or I’ll shoot you in the head!’ kinda thing is stupid, and only someone who has _never_ robbed anything would do it”

The three bank directors stare at Zayn for a moment, taking in his grin and his absolutely indecorous composure, and then return their gazes to Harry, blinking. “Agent Styles?” Gade says “Who, um, who _is_ this person?”

Harry sighs. “He’s our… consultant for this case. Bank robbery expert. We trust his opinion on this” he explains gently “Erik?” he says then, looking at Zayn. Zayn’s eyes meet Harry’s, and there’s something in there, something defiant and nervous and a bit hurt, at Harry using that name “So you think these robberies have been committed by someone without any experience in bank jobs?”

Zayn recovers from Harry’s low blow with the name, and shrugs. “Zero experience even in mugging, more like” he declares “How do you think the Chameleon stayed hidden from you for so long, Agent Styles? He never got inside a bank and shouted. He slowly approached an employee, pointing the gun at them but _only_ for them to see, and _kindly_ asked to give him the fucking money or he’d shoot ‘em in the head” he grins “Except for a couple of more elaborate, flashier and absolutely gorgeous outfits. Those caught more attention anyway, of course. But they were just for he sake of the show, because he knew you were watching, maybe you remember. He didn’t steal anything big those times, he was just there, and then went away when you and the rest of the people _looked_. The Chameleon had a… flair for the dramatic”

And well, Harry kinda deserved it. “Very well, Mr. Zaidi” he insists on the name “Thank you for this very precious piece of information”

They gather all the intel they can get from the three bank directors, and when they leave, Zayn stands up. His eyes are a bit like fire in Harry’s. “Of all the names” he hisses, not caring that Louis is also there to listen “Of all the fucking fake names you could give me. You had to call me Erik Zaidi”

Harry shrugs, grinning. “It’s the name I’m most used to, Zayn. Maybe you remember”

Zayn doesn’t reply for a moment. “I remember everything, SSA Harry Styles” he says at last, very nervously “Say my name, now”

Harry stays silent.

“Say my fucking name, Harry” Zayn hisses. He’s beyond angry.

Harry sighs, deciding to pick his battles. “Zayn. Zayn Malik”

Zayn doesn’t answer, and neither does Louis, but Harry secretly feels a bit guilty for having struck one of Zayn’s few nerves. Zayn himself, though, seems to calm down a little after that.

Louis sighs. “We should go to the _Red Cherry_ before Liam and Niall get back”

Zayn snorts. “You wanna go to the _Red Cherry_ now? During _daylight_?”

Harry frowns. “Yeah? Isn’t it open in the morning and afternoon as well?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and huffs a frustrated sigh. “ _No one_ important is gonna be there, client-wise and employee-wise, Jesus Christ” he comments “And if your whole jacket-and-tie thing doesn’t scream _cop_ enough, going around the _Red Cherry_ in broad daylight asking questions will give it away for sure”

Harry stands up, crossing his arms on his chest. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

Zayn grins. “We” he says “Are going to the _Red Cherry_ , but we’re going _tonight_. I’mma need your phone to make a call. I might be able to get some really good intel in exchange for a show”

Harry feels all his insides go to fucking mush at that. “You… you wanna _strip_?”

Zayn arches an eyebrow at him. “I don’t strip, Harry Styles” he declares “I _perform_ ”

\--

> When Zayn first spoke to SSA Harry Styles, he was impersonating himself, meaning that for once he wasn’t going around in a disguise.
> 
> It was way past midnight, and it was a gay club. There was no need to hide, and besides, he could have walked into a police precinct with his real face on, and nobody would have understood he was The Chameleon anyway.
> 
> He grinned at the thought the press even gave him a nickname. And they didn’t even see most of his outfits, because SSA Harry Styles had then told them that making Zayn famous and notorious would only pump his ego. So they’d stopped showing Zayn’s footage in the news. But the nickname stayed, whether Harry Styles wanted it or not.
> 
> Zayn went to dance and drink at that club because sometimes he missed having fun, being among people, and dancing.
> 
> And that night, he saw SSA Harry Styles sitting at the bar of the same club, a drink in his hand, and a pensive expression on his face. _Maybe he’s thinking about me_ , Zayn thought.
> 
> He didn’t know why he did what he did. He only knew that Harry Styles so close gave him a bit of a light-headedness, and he really, _really_ wanted to see if he was good enough to fool SSA Harry Styles in his face.
> 
> So he downed the rest of his drink, and went up to Harry Styles.
> 
> He sat next to him at the bar, and immediately Harry Styles raised his head, wanting to check who had taken the empty seat next to him. _You always need to control everything, don’t you_.
> 
> Zayn smiled at him. “Hi” he said.
> 
> Harry smiled too, a bit tightly, though. “Hey”
> 
> “My name’s Erik” Zayn said, stretching his hand out “I’m sorry, was this seat already taken? It must be, seeing that it’s next to someone like _you_ ”
> 
> It was a bad pickup line, a horrible one, and it made Harry arch an eyebrow. Nonetheless, he chuckled. “That was not smooth at all” he replied “But no, it’s not taken”
> 
> “Well, it is now” Zayn declared.
> 
> Harry blinked twice, and then finally shook the hand Zayn was still holding out for him. “Harry”
> 
> “Nice name. Do you wanna dance?”
> 
> He didn’t plan on saying that. But the booze was doing its thing through Zayn’s body, and Harry Styles always wore those super-tight skinny jeans, even when he was working, and his shirt was unbuttoned almost until his navel, and he had curls Zayn kinda wanted to touch.
> 
> So he asked.
> 
> Harry nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ve had a terrible day. Maybe it’ll cheer me up”
> 
> “I got you, babe” Zayn assured him, deliberately brushing the shell of Harry’s ear with his lips, and suppressing a giggle. _He’s bummed because I let him so fucking close to me today, gave him an eyeful of my Doctor Jekyll/Mr. Hyde costume, and then I escaped through his fucking fingers without even stealing anything. You think about me all the fucking time, don’t you, Harry Styles?_
> 
> It would take Zayn another while to realize that Harry thought about him a lot, but he also thought a lot about Harry in return.

\--

The _Red Cherry_ is a shithole.

Harry almost has a heart attack when they get to the entrance and he sees the black concrete walls, with the neon flashing the name of the place in red and purple. It’s just a building in a dirty, shady alley, and yet the line of people who want to get inside counts more than thirty individuals.

There are two bouncers at the door, two huge men dressed in suits, checking IDs and letting people in, slowly.

Zayn doesn’t stop at the end of the line, he just walks by all the people. Harry and the lads follow him.

“Hey! Respect the line, mate! If I’m gonna freeze my arse here then you gotta do the same!” someone shouts.

Harry turns immediately to the voice, finding a quite large group of people glaring at them.

“Shut the fuck up” Zayn replies with a smirk “If I freeze my arse, then you won’t _see_ any arse tonight”

Harry rolls his eyes and takes a couple quicker steps, to walk right beside Zayn.

He looks so… _small_ , only dressed in skinnies and a tank top and a thin leather jacket. It’s not that Harry is that big compared to him. But there’s just something about Zayn, in the delicate cut of his cheekbones, in the length of his eyelashes and the innocence— _fake_ innocence, Harry knows—of his eyes that makes Zayn look like a kitten among a pack of alligators, sometimes.

“Can’t you, like, be nice and not draw attention to yourself?” Harry hisses to him.

Zayn chuckles. “Nice made me end up in jail, Harry Styles” he replies “And besides, you’re gonna get your information by me drawing _a lot_ of attention to myself, so shut up. I got you and your friends a pass for the backstage in exchange for my show. You should be grateful”

Harry is trying not to think about it. About Zayn being about to play a burlesque number in a shady club.

They get to the bouncers, and Harry hears Liam whistle. “Fucking hell, these are two _big_ lads”

The bouncers stare at all of them like they’re maggots. And then their eyes land on Zayn, and they gape. “Zahir fucking Saadi” they say.

Harry rolls his eyes. Just _how many_ aliases does Zayn have?

Zayn grins, and fist-bumps the two bouncers. “Yo, Gabriel, Andrew” he says “It’s good to be back”

“So it’s true? You’re _back_? I thought the old man just found a lookalike of you or summat” one of the bouncers, probably Gabriel, gapes, pointing at some poster right next to the door.

Harry follows Gabriel’s pointer finger, and his stomach freezes and goes upside down and does a thousand other things, because it’s been _years_ since he’s seen something like that.

It’s a picture of Zayn. Or, well, of Veronica Malik. She’s sitting on a desk, her long legs crossed, and she’s holding her glasses in her hand, the tip of one of the stems between her teeth, and a cascade of long, dark-brown hair over her shoulders. She’s wearing her usual attire, a dark blue pencil skirt with a thin, light indigo blouse on top.

Under the picture, the poster reads _Just for tonight, a star comes back: VERONICA MALIK_.

“Oh, fuck” Louis comments “I never saw one of his costumes up close. It doesn’t look like him _at all_ ”

Zayn shrugs, ignoring Louis and answering Gabriel’s comment. “Eh, only for tonight. Special guest or summat. Besides, you know how it is. _Nobody_ could ever be Veronica’s lookalike”

Andrew barks a laugh. “We might need to find someone to cover for us and go watch the show tonight, then, Gabe. If pretty boy’s back, it must be really something” he tells the other.

“This is very objectifying” Harry mutters to Niall.

Niall laughs, but doesn’t reply. Zayn evidently hears Harry, though, because he kicks Harry in the shin without even turning to look at him.

Instead, Zayn keeps his angelic grin directed to the bouncers. “So, can we go in? These are my guests. McAnders knows, I spoke to him on the phone”

Andrew laughs and moves to let them in. “We don’t care about the old man, you’re our queen of hearts”

Zayn laughs. It’s always something, when he does, isn’t it? His eyes crinkle and sparkle, and his tongue pokes behind his teeth, and Harry has a brief moment of blind rage at the thought that Zayn should look at _him_ while he does that.

Then he shakes his head and regains control of himself. _Control yourself. Control your surroundings. You’re fucking_ working _on a case right now._

Zayn grins at the two bouncers, and blows them a kiss before disappearing through the door.

Harry and the lads follow him.

Everything is scarcely illuminated in the club. The lights are a dark red, perfect for giving people privacy and hurting Harry’s eyes, but Zayn seems to be more at ease than ever as he slaloms through tables and chairs and armchairs, towards what looks like a small stage, still in the darkness.

There’s a table right in front of the stage, and Zayn chuckles when he sees the note _Reserved for Zahir_ on it. “McAnders is going above and beyond” he comments “Maybe he’s still not given up on me quitting, the old fart”

Harry clears his throat. “What do we do now?” he asks “This is your… venue. And you’re our consultant. So, _consult_ us”

Zayn grins, and pats Harry’s shoulder. “Enjoy Veronica’s show, Harry Styles” he says “I’m sure you can manage to do that” he winks.

Harry stays very still.

“Then” Zayn keeps speaking “When it’s done and I’ve returned backstage, you will come find me. They’ll let you in, I made sure of that with McAnders. Once you’re in there, we can ask questions around. You won’t look suspicious if you’re with me. The worst that can happen is that they’ll think I got four fit clients at once”

Harry feels his lungs constrict. “What _exactly_ did you do here?”

Zayn stays motionless one more second, and then bursts out laughing. “Oh my God your _face_!” he exclaims “I’m _joking_ , Harry. I was a costume designer, a makeup artist, and a part-time stripper. That’s _it_. No sexual intercourse was involved. Unless I decided so”

With that, Zayn pulls a little on Harry’s curls, giving him a shock right to the groin, and disappears through a door.

Louis snorts. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”

“He’s a good egg” Niall replies “He’s just got a flair for the dramatic”

“Shut up” Harry tells them, and sits down. His legs are kinda shaking.

*

When the host introduces Veronica Malik, there’s an explosion of screams and claps that almost deafens Harry. Everything is dark except the small stage, where the spotlight shines brightly over an empty desk.

 _House of the Rising Sun_ starts playing, and Harry has to grip the edge of his chair very tightly, because of all the songs, Zayn just chose _that_ one. Because he knows it’s been Zayn’s doing, not anybody else’s.

Zayn comes out. Well, Veronica does.

_And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy_

_And God, I know I’m one_

She’s wearing her usual clothes, and Harry briefly wonders if Zayn left a set of Veronica clothes here at the club. Then, his brain stops working properly, because Veronica sits on the desk, and she starts dancing.

It’s not _really_ dancing. It’s just a swerve of her hips, a flirty face while she removes her glasses, a small swaying as she slides with her bum across the desk and opens her legs, her heeled feet on the two corners of the surface.

The original costume should have just normal heels, but she’s wearing heeled boots now. Harry knows they’ll stay on, because they’re there to hide the monitor Zayn has on his left ankle.

Even in that position, Harry can’t see anything under Veronica’s skirt because of the lighting.

 _Why would I ever_ want _to see it?_ , he asks himself stupidly, because he knows the answer to that.

It’s not just Veronica, it’s Zayn, and Harry wants to _look_.

Zayn winks at him, and he gets off the desk. Veronica starts unbuttoning her blouse. Harry doesn’t know if he should think about _him_ or _her_ , because in this moment, Zayn is both, he’s himself and he’s _her_ , and both are inherently beautiful and sexy and overwhelming, and Harry feels hot.

“It’s sexy and I’m not even gay” Niall comments in a whisper.

Harry ignores him, because he’s slowly and thoroughly filling up in his jeans, the skinnies Zayn has told him to wear because there was _no way_ he’d bring someone dressed so much like a cop at the _Red Cherry_. Apparently, ties and jackets mean _cop_ in this kind of low-rent places.

Veronica is done with her buttons, and the song is just done with the first verse.

She removes the blouse, and underneath, she has a small lacy black bra. A bra that is not holding anything, and yet Harry wants to see her remove it as well.

The bra stays in place as Zayn keeps dancing and starts sexily fumbling with the skirt. He bends over a little, and the glasses he’s perched on his head fall down. He sighs, covering his mouth with a smirk in his eyes, and the audience laughs.

Harry doesn’t. He can’t laugh, because he’s now completely hard in his jeans, and he’s dreading the moment in which Zayn will look at him and notice even in the darkness surrounding Harry. Zayn always notices.

For now, though, Zayn seems to be engrossed in his Veronica show. She resumes the unbuttoning of the skirt, and then leaves it there, open and halfway through her arse, turning around so that the audience can get a glimpse of it. She stays with her back turned, and gathers her hair over her shoulder, unclasping the bra.

 _Turn_ , Harry thinks shamelessly. _Turn, I wanna see you_.

Zayn does. Veronica turns, and her eyes land unmistakably on Harry as she removes the bra and throws it away. It lands right at Harry’s feet. Harry doesn’t even look at it, because Zayn’s chest is there, his tattoos all perfectly covered, his skin smooth and hairless.

_Spend your lives in sin and misery_

_In the House of the Rising Sun_

Harry can’t even see a _hint_ of tattoos, not even on Zayn’s arms. Even the checkerboard is perfectly covered. The tattoo Harry hates the most.

Veronica runs her hands up and down her torso, plays with her hair, plays with Harry’s feelings.

Harry wants to avert his gaze, it’s so intense. But he can’t. He knows he won’t get to see Veronica again. And when this whole thing will be over, he won’t get to see _Zayn_ again. So now he needs to _watch_.

The skirt goes. Zayn’s wearing lacy panties as well, black, and they fit him well despite him having male parts. Male parts Harry can _see_.

_Well, I got one foot on the platform_

_The other foot on the train_

_I'm going back to New Orleans_

_To wear that ball and chain_

Harry wonders if it’s gonna be a _total_ strip, while his heart pounds because of the song and because of what it means and because Zayn chose it.

He doesn’t have to wait much to find out, because Zayn plays with the hem of the panties, looks at the audience—at _Harry_ —like he’s undecided and deliberating on whether they should see or not, and then he grins.

 _He_ , not _she_. Because that’s a _Zayn_ grin, the grin that told Harry a lifetime ago, _I won_.

The song ends, and the lights on the stage go out right as Zayn bends over, lace-covered arse on display just for the smallest second.

The crowd screams and claps.

Harry realizes that this whole show, the way Zayn smirked, and the song was just his revenge for Harry calling him Erik Zaidi. Because Zayn looks innocent, but he’s kinda cruel.

Harry almost comes in his jeans at the thought of what it would feel to be able to see the rest.

Again.

\--

> They danced for a long while. Harry seemed a bit stiff at first, but he loosened up pretty quickly once Zayn decided to wrap his hands around his hips.
> 
> The music was loud, and the lights were barely there, just flashes of strobe lights dancing across Harry’s eyes in blue, green, red, and white.
> 
> Zayn had only seen SSA Harry Styles up close in pictures. Newspaper articles, news tv reports.
> 
> He’d never seen him up close in person, and he had the urge to roll his eyes at himself when he realized that he was staring at him while they danced, thinking that Harry Styles was fit.
> 
> The moment Zayn’s hands went to Harry’s waist, Harry’s hands also snaked to Zayn’s hips. They were big, and steady, hauling him close until their crotches were rubbing together, both of them grinding against each other.
> 
> Zayn felt himself fill up instantly, and the only—mere, of course—consolation was that Harry didn’t seem better off.
> 
> They kept assessing each other, looking at each other in the eyes while bucking their hips, and then it hit him that _that_ was SSA Harry Styles, and Zayn had managed to get so close to him without him even having a clue. That fact alone made Zayn’s dick grow even harder.
> 
> Harry noticed. He stared at Zayn for one more moment, and then surged forward, capturing Zayn’s lips in a kiss.
> 
> Zayn could have refused. He could have moved. He should have moved.
> 
> But he didn’t. He opened his mouth instead, allowing Harry more access, and shivered when their tongues met. Harry groaned a little, and they were not dancing anymore by that point, just standing in the middle of the crowd with their hands on each other’s waist, snogging.
> 
> Harry Styles’s mouth tasted like some fruity drink, and it was scorching hot. Zayn secretly loved it, the way Harry was swirling his tongue to lick at the roof of Zayn’s mouth, the way his hands were so big they were keeping Zayn moulded against him and there was no way for Zayn to escape, not even if he wanted to.
> 
> He honestly didn’t want to, and there was no need. Harry Styles didn’t fucking know he was snogging the Chameleon. The knowledge went to Zayn’s head more than the alcohol.
> 
> Later, he would convince himself that he didn’t know how and why they went from snogging on the dance floor to pulling each other towards the restroom.
> 
> The truth was very simple. Zayn wanted to, and Harry too.
> 
> They stumbled over people’s feet, their hands never stopping gripping on the other’s _something_ , a shirt, a jeans waistband. And when they almost tripped over their own feet while pushing the door of the men’s restroom open, the music was instantly tuned down by the door closing again.
> 
> They looked at each other, the harsh, white lights of the restroom hurting their eyes after they spent so long in semi-darkness. The music was muffled, but Zayn could still hear it. It was a disco remix of _House of the Rising Sun_.
> 
> That song would stay linked to Harry in Zayn’s mind ever since.
> 
> They didn’t speak. They just collided again, their tongues entwining, tripping and struggling to get inside one of the small bathroom stalls.
> 
> It was filthy, but Zayn was far from caring when he locked the door and then kneeled in front of Harry, all thoughts of _what the fuck am I doing right now_ forgotten, and his only purpose was getting his mouth on Harry Styles’s dick.
> 
> _There is a house in New Orleans_
> 
> _They call the Rising Sun_
> 
> _And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy_
> 
> Harry hissed and groaned when Zayn unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers just enough to get his hard cock out.
> 
> Zayn took a breath, and wrapped his lips around the tip, looking up at Harry in the eyes.
> 
> Harry’s own eyes rolled back in his head, and his hand flew to Zayn’s hair.
> 
> As he started sucking and lapping, it horribly downed on him that he’d forgotten the fake name he’d given Harry.
> 
> It didn’t matter, though, because Harry let out another sinful groan, his head banging against the wall, and “Ah, fuck, Erik” was what he said.
> 
> Zayn smirked a little to himself, and took Harry deeper, relaxing his throat until his nose hit Harry’s pelvis.
> 
> _Oh mother, tell your children_
> 
> _Not to do what I have done_
> 
> _Spend your lives in sin and misery_
> 
> _In the House of The Rising Sun_
> 
> “Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes” Harry grunted, his hips starting to buck a little.
> 
> Zayn didn’t stop him. He just put his own hands behind his back, and stared up at Harry.
> 
> Harry looked at him, blinking. And then he nodded, grabbed a fistful of Zayn’s hair, and started fucking Zayn’s mouth.
> 
> Zayn took it, because he loved it. He’d never particularly liked it before, but he did right then, with Harry’s hands fisting his hair and moving his head in time with his thrusts.
> 
> Zayn tightened his mouth around Harry, gagging a little, and not minding.
> 
> Harry’s legs started to shake, and he looked utterly wrecked, with his eyes closed and a pleasured frown on his forehead, his head reclined backwards against the tiles of the wall, and his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he gulped down some air. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” he warned Zayn.
> 
> Zayn didn’t do anything. He just kept sucking, swirling his tongue around the head when Harry was too far gone to keep thrusting or holding Zayn’s head.
> 
> Harry shouted, and Zayn didn’t worry about people listening, because he didn’t fucking care. He just watched SSA Harry Styles come in his mouth, and swallowed it all, still looking at him in the eyes.
> 
> When he was done, he stood up. Harry’s hands started to fumble with Zayn’s belt, but Zayn chuckled and stopped him, because he didn’t even need to come, at that point.
> 
> He grabbed Harry’s hands, and kissed him dirtily, making sure Harry would taste his own come on Zayn’s tongue. “Erik” Harry said, panting “Let me make you come”
> 
> Zayn felt his stomach turn a little. _I’m not Erik. I’m Zayn. Say my name. Say my name_ , he thought, but of course he didn’t say it.
> 
> He chuckled on Harry’s lips. “Maybe another time. I’m already content just like this. Harry” he said.
> 
> And before he could actually realize what the fuck he was doing, he pulled out a scrap paper from his jeans. “You got a pen?” he asked Harry.
> 
> Harry nodded, dumbfounded, and produced a small pen out of his back pocket.
> 
> Zayn scribbled his number on the piece of paper, his heart thumping loud in his chest, a litany of _I’m so fucking close to you I’m so fucking close and you’ll never know_ in his brain making him dizzy like he was the one who just got head in a bathroom stall.
> 
> He wrote _Erik Zaidi_ under the number, deciding it was better to play it safe and give Harry an Urdu surname that could match Zayn’s looks. “Gimme a call” he just said.
> 
> Harry nodded. “Okay. Um, my surname is Styles” he said, awkwardly and with his cheeks red.
> 
> _You’re a blusher, ain’t you, Harry Styles_ , Zayn thought. “Very nice to have met you, Harry Styles” he said, kissed him again, and went out of the restroom.
> 
> _I’m going back to New Orleans_
> 
> _To wear that ball and chain_
> 
> _There is a house in New Orleans_
> 
> _They call the Rising Sun_
> 
> _And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy_
> 
> _And God, I know I’m one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.


	3. Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m tired of restraining myself” he murmurs, to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same disclaimers and warnings listed in Chapter 1 apply.

Harry is calm and collected by the time Zayn’s show is over, and they are allowed backstage by a petite, giggling girl in a housemaid outfit.

Or well, he’s calm and collected on the outside. Inside, his blood is boiling.

Zayn did it on purpose, the show, the song. Harry can’t get it out of his fucking head.

There’s a total of thirteen girls in the room, some of them sitting in front of their own vanity and putting on makeup, wearing different costumes which vary from nurses to stable girls, from teachers to schoolgirls with skirts too short to be real uniforms.

Some of them are cooing around Zayn, who is sitting in front of a vanity as well, but it’s not _his_ , because the name on top of the mirror says _Delilah_. Zayn is chuckling as he removes his makeup from his eyes, and two girls giggle and touch him as they take care of helping him remove the rest of the makeup from his arms, shoulders, back.

 _Stop touching him_ , Harry thinks and doesn’t say.

Nobody seems to be puzzled by four unknown men entering the changing room. Some girls send them a glance, a couple winks, even a kiss. Harry looks at the lads, and they’re quick to start approaching people, masking the investigation as casual conversation, and the girls smile and chuckle and reply. Harry can’t hear what they say, but the lads will tell him later.

For now, Harry goes to Zayn. He’s still removing makeup from his eyes, and he laughs. “Oh, come on, Delilah. You knew it was just this one time, I’m sure McAnders told you”

The girl in question, certainly Delilah, pouts and scrubs Zayn’s arm. The checkerboard makes its appearance again. Harry hates it. Delilah is very tall, with a long, blonde French braid resting over her left shoulder.

“I know, I know” Delilah says “But you’re so _good_ , Zahir! You put us all to fucking shame, and this is not even a drag club”

Zayn chuckles. “I could never, babe. You all are too gorgeous for teeny tiny me to be better”

The girls coo. “Ay, Zahir” another one says, with a thick Hispanic accent and curly, black hair held up in a tight ponytail “We miss you though. Makeup’s not that great when you’re not here to do it for us. The costumes too. They’re shit”

Zayn laughs. “I know” he says, pulling at the girl’s blouse “What _is_ this, Amanita, a fucking milk carton?”

Amanita giggles. “I try my best” she pouts.

Zayn nods. “’M sure you do, doll. Your smoky eyes are better than the makeup I used to do for you two years ago”

“Where have you been, Zahir?” Delilah asks “Don’t you miss… this?”

Zayn looks around. He sees Harry, finally, but it’s like he doesn’t acknowledge him, and his eyes just dart over everything in the room before looking again in the mirror. “I do” he says “Like, I don’t miss this shitty place. But I miss the job”

“And us” Amanita says.

Zayn chuckles. “Yeah, babe. And you” he concedes. His eyes find Harry’s through the reflection in the mirror, and he keeps speaking to the girl, although his gaze never leaves Harry “Anyone else missing me? Anyone crying over my absence and crawling on the floor begging me to come back?” he asks, and Harry understands.

 _He’s investigating on whether someone here asked about him, or developed a bit of an obsession with him after he was gone_.

Delilah and Amanita laugh, and they open their mouths to reply, but they don’t. Because they notice Harry standing there right next to them, and they just frown at him.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Ladies, this is my friend Harry. Harry, these are my favourite women, Delilah and Amanita”

Harry recovers as quickly as he can, and stretches a hand out for the two women. “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry”

The girls stare at his hand, and then they have a fit of laughter. “So classy” Delilah comments, before leaning over to place a kiss on Harry’s cheek. Amanita does the same on his other cheek. “Sit with us, sit! We wanna know where the fuck Zahir went. Is this your boyfriend, Zahir? Did you just fuck off with him and never spare a single thought for us because you got good dick?”

Harry feels his face get warmer and warmer, but Zayn is laughing as he pulls out a stool from under the vanity, and gestures for Harry to sit. He does.

“Nah” Zayn says nonchalantly. His makeup’s all gone, and he swiftly wears his top and jacket again. “He’s just a friend. And, I don’t just fuck off with blokes never to return. It’s not how I roll”

Amanita snorts. “Yeah, tell that to Anton Grayson” she says “He came here every fucking day wondering where you went and why you moved out of you guys’ place without saying anything”

Harry’s stomach lurches, and his brain is sending him alarm signals even before he sees Zayn’s face lose all its colour. He’s not looking at Harry anymore, but he isn’t looking at the girls either. His eyes are fixed on the bottles of makeup on the vanity, and his hands are tightly gripping his own knees. “Did he?” he asks.

Delilah nods. “Yeah, well, what did you expect. He said you just never came back to him. He was crying, the poor sod. Asked us to give him your old costumes so he could have a memory of you. We didn’t, of course. They’re yours and we don’t give each other’s things to people, here. But lemme tell you, he was suffering like you were fucking _dead_ or summat”

Harry’s head keeps clicking pieces of the puzzle together, his hands restlessly rubbing his own thighs.

 _Anton Grayson. He wanted Zayn’s costumes but they didn’t give ‘em to him, so he made replicas. He and Zayn lived together. Zayn said nobody knew about the heists. But how could someone who lived with him_ not _know? Zayn lied. Anton Grayson is a suspect. They lived together. Why? Who is he? Why did Zayn lie?_

Harry tries to catch Zayn’s attention, but Zayn is purposefully avoiding his eyes. _He definitely lied to me_ , Harry thinks, trying to bottle up his anger.

He wonders why the fuck he’s surprised, considering that Zayn did nothing but lie to Harry for most of the time they were around each other.

Harry doesn’t say anything. But Zayn keeps speaking to the girls. “Oh? I mean, we just broke up shortly after I stopped working here. That’s all. So he wanted my costumes, you said? Which ones?”

Amanita bites on her own bottom lip. “Sorry, babe, we know you hold those costumes very dear and you don’t want people to touch ‘em, but the lad was crying and it went to our hearts a little bit. So we showed ‘em to him. Just showed them, swear!”

Zayn smiles, seemingly not having a care in the world, but Harry can see the way he’s still gripping his own knees tightly, like his hands would shake otherwise. “Which ones?” Zayn asks again.

“The Jack the Ripper, the Joker, and the stable boy ones. The only three you left here. Well, you also left Veronica’s clothes here, but those are fucking _sacred_ , so we didn’t take those out” Delilah replies.

 _They match the disguises of the three robberies_ , Harry realizes. _It’s him, it’s this Anton Grayson. Now I just need_ proof _. And I need to find the connection with the murders. It’s him. I’m close, I’m so fucking close_.

Harry feels Louis’s presence next to him without even having to turn. He stays motionless, because he knows he’s beyond angry, and it will show, to someone who knows him as well as Louis does. “Haz, we have a name” Louis whispers in his ear “Anton Grayson. He’s been around here asking for Z… Zahir. And he wanted his costumes. They didn’t give ‘em to him”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Go to the hotel, you and the lads. I’ll follow shortly with _him_ ”

“Harry, please keep your cool” Louis hisses “You look like someone just killed your dog and you’re about to go John Wick on them. Stay fucking calm, okay? I know he lied. I know you care. But now’s not the time”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Lou. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We can go to the PD and start researching on this guy”

Louis nods, pats him on the back, and leaves.

Harry doesn’t speak anymore, while Zayn makes totally useless conversation with the two girls, probably trying not to look like he’s _investigating_. Zayn never looks at him.

\--

> Harry called Zayn three days after the blowjob in the gay club.
> 
> Zayn told himself that he forgot all about that, but the truth was that he kept thinking about Harry’s red face after he came, the way he tasted, the way his hands tightened in Zayn’s hair.
> 
> So when his phone rang with an oncoming call from an unknown number, Zayn already knew who it was gonna be on the other end. It wasn’t like there were many people calling him, just his bank and McAnders who still hadn’t given up on Zayn quitting his job at the _Red Cherry_.
> 
> “Who’s that?” Anton asked from the armchair where he was sitting.
> 
> Zayn shushed him, and answered the call.
> 
> “Hello?” he said into the receiver.
> 
> There was a clearing of throat at the other end. “Hello, um, is this Erik Zaidi?”
> 
> Zayn grinned, sitting on his couch with his feet under his arse. “Yes?” he said, faking an uncertain tone “Who’s this?”
> 
> “Hi. It’s, um, Harry Styles. We met at a club three days ago, you gave me your number”
> 
> Zayn held back a fucking _giggle_. “Mate, I’mma need a bit more than that, I’ve given my number to blokes in clubs quite a lot in the past three days”
> 
> Anton arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t make a sound.
> 
> Harry stuttered in the receiver. “Oh. I see. Well. Maybe this was, like, a bad idea. Sorry to dist…”
> 
> Zayn laughed, interrupting Harry. “I’m joking, Harry Styles. I remember you. Quite well. I remember your shirt with the feathers and your skinny jeans. I gave you my number and I gave you a blowjob”
> 
> Anton looked at Zayn, with his mouth a bit agape. Zayn silently laughed, putting an index to his lips for Anton, to tell him to keep shutting up. Anton shrugged and resumed scrolling on his phone.
> 
> Harry emitted something like a squeal, and then cleared his throat. “Oh. Okay. I’m… glad you remember me. I remember you too”
> 
> “Clearly”
> 
> Harry chuckled. “I was wondering if, like, if you wanted to go grab a coffee, or a beer, or whatever you like? I’d like to take you out somewhere that is not a dirty bathroom stall”
> 
> Zayn’s heart constricted a little. _What, like a fucking_ date _?_
> 
> “Erik? You still there?” Harry asked.
> 
> Zayn nodded. _I’m not Erik. Say my name. Say my name_. “Yeah, sorry” he replied “And yeah. I’d like that”
> 
> As they set up a date for the next day, Zayn kept thinking _What the fuck am I doing what the fuck am I doing_.

\--

“You _lied_ to me” Harry hisses as soon as they’re far enough from the _Red Cherry_. He’s holding Zayn by the lapel of his jacket as they both keep walking. He knows Zayn won’t try to run, but Harry’s angry, he’s never been this angry since the day he fucking _arrested_ the Chameleon.

Zayn takes a harsh breath. “I didn’t! I just _omitted_ it! I thought it didn’t matter!”

“You thought it didn’t matter that you fucking _lived_ with someone” Harry growls, pushing at Zayn to make him be quicker. _I need you in the hotel room so I can fucking_ shout _at you_ “You _lied_ , Zayn! You said that no one knew about your heists. Did Anton Grayson _not know_?”

Zayn doesn’t reply. He lets Harry manhandle him, and the fact he’s shutting up is confirmation enough. Anton Grayson knew, and Zayn didn’t say it.

“Who was he to you, huh?” Harry asks.

Zayn, despite the way Harry’s almost dragging him towards the hotel, chuckles. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

Harry pushes at Zayn’s chest. Zayn stumbles, and for a brief moment, Harry’s hands twitch to just hold him and steady him and say sorry, but he doesn’t move. “Yes” he just hisses “Yes, because this person is my suspect, and I need to fucking know”

Zayn chuckles again, bitterly. “It’s all a fucking case to you, isn’t it. You wanna know _for the case_ ” he says, in a mocking tone.

Harry sees red. They’re right outside the hotel, so he just grabs Zayn by the jacket again, and pushes and pulls him up the stairs, his anger almost blinding him. He thanks God there’s no one around.

Zayn doesn’t put up any resistance. He sighs and lets Harry jostle him until they’re in Harry’s room.

Well, _their_ room. Of course they’re sharing a room, because Zayn is still a fucking convicted criminal, and Harry is responsible for him until he goes back to fucking jail.

Harry slams the door shut when they’re inside, bolts it, and then he’s on Zayn again, pushing him against the wall. _This is not protocol, calm the fuck down, he’s a criminal, he’s a consultant, he’s everything you can’t fucking have_.

“You _lied_ to me” Harry hisses again, grabbing Zayn’s jacket and slamming him with his back against the wall.

Zayn’s eyelids flutter, and he gasps a breath. “Yes” he says “I lied to you. Are you gonna do something about it?”

“This is not a fucking game, Zayn!” Harry shouts in his face “This person developed an _obsession_ with you, and he’s fucking _killing_ so that you’ll notice him!”

Zayn grins. “Are you worried about me, or are you worried this is gonna be another case you won’t be able to solve?” he asks, defiantly.

Harry’s whole body shivers, and he cages Zayn against the wall, pressing their bodies together. “I _never_ failed to solve a case. _Never_. Maybe you remember, Chameleon”

Zayn’s eyes flash. He rolls his hips, so that their crotches rub together, and Harry almost loses the tiny sliver of control he still has. “What did it cost you, SSA Harry Styles?” Zayn asks with a chuckle “What did it cost you to solve that case? Don’t you wish you’d never known who I was?”

Harry shakes his head. “I still don’t know who you are” he breathes “You’re the Chameleon, and nothing else”

Zayn goes pale. Their faces are so close, and _you shouldn’t be doing this, Harry, he’s a criminal, he lied to you, who knows how many lies he told you and you still don’t know_. “Say my name” Zayn demands.

“The Chameleon” Harry replies.

“No” Zayn grunts “Say my name, Harry”

“Why? What does it matter to you?” Harry grits out “Nothing ever mattered _shit_ to you. Who’s that man, Zayn? Anton Grayson? Was he your lover? Did he fuck you? Did you let him?”

“Say my fucking name, Harry!” Zayn shouts. He _begs_ , really, and Harry is maybe losing his mind, because he can see _tears_ pooling in Zayn’s eyes.

Harry exhales, willing himself to calm down. “Zayn” he says “Zayn Malik”

Zayn surges forward, and he kisses Harry.

Harry’s brain stops working. He just kisses Zayn back, because he can deny it all he wants, but he’s not stupid, and he knows what he feels for Zayn, what he’s been feeling for a long time, the desire to touch him and grab him and _look_ at him.

But he’s still angry, he’s gonna be angry for a while more, because that’s all he can give Zayn now. Anger. To hide all the other things like Zayn always hides his own identity. “Who is he?” Harry asks, biting down on Zayn’s bottom lip and drawing blood.

Zayn hisses in pain, but he doesn’t stop kissing Harry. “He was a client at the _Red Cherry_ ” he replies, still trapped between Harry’s body and the wall “He liked Veronica. Then he liked me. We moved in together before I did my first heist. We needed the money, for rent. He couldn’t find a job. That’s why I did my first robbery. Dressed as Veronica”

“Did he know?” Harry growls, his teeth going for Zayn’s neck.

Zayn nods. “Yes. Yes, he knew”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zayn shivers, his hands gripping Harry’s hair and pulling, while at the same time keeping Harry’s head right where it is on his neck. “Because I didn’t want you to know I lied to you about living alone. Two years ago”

Harry’s sight goes black for a moment, and he stops sucking and biting at Zayn’s neck, looking at him in the eyes. “Were you with him? Did he fuck you?”

Zayn gulps down some air. “Yes”

“Were you with him when we met?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No. Not anymore. We still lived together. But we broke up before I even spoke to you for the first time” he says, and Harry must be mental, because he _believes_ him “It was a mutual breakup. He took it well. He never tried to touch me again”

“Did he really take it well, Zayn?” Harry growls, slamming him against the wall again “Because now here we are, and he’s obsessed with you, knows about your heists, and he’s probably killing people just so you’ll _see_ him”

“I never wanted to be with him” Zayn says in a small, broken voice “It was what was best for my interests at the time”

Harry should stop touching Zayn and leave the room. Instead, he kisses Zayn, shoving his tongue inside his mouth, and he gets harder and harder when he notices how pliant Zayn’s gone, how he’s letting Harry handle him as he pleases. “Everything’s in your interest, Zayn, isn’t it” Harry murmurs “That’s all you think about. Your interest. _I_ was in your interest as well”

Zayn shakes his head. “No. Not you. Never you. You were _against_ all my fucking interests, Harry”

Harry chuckles bitterly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever believe you again”

“Then believe _this_ ” Zayn replies, and kisses Harry one more time.

Harry’s done fighting it. So he just grabs Zayn, and shoves him towards the bed, pushing him on it so hard Zayn bounces a couple of times, and then starts removing his own clothes, their eyes never leaving each other. Zayn also gets undressed, almost ripping his own clothes in his haste.

When Harry peels off his jeans, his hands wrap around the handcuffs he always has in his back pocket.

Before he can think more about this, he crawls over Zayn, pulls him up and turns him so that he’s on his knees, facing the wall, and then handcuffs him to the headboard.

Zayn takes a ragged breath. “Yes, yes, please, yes” he murmurs, like all he was waiting was for Harry to do it.

Harry stares at Zayn’s back, at the nape of his neck, at the way he’s on his knees with his head bent forward, motionless like he’s just waiting for Harry to do whatever he wants with him. He knows he shouldn’t. But how can he fucking restrain himself anymore?

He hasn’t got any restraint left. It all flew out the window when he took Zayn away from jail. “I’m tired of restraining myself” he murmurs, to himself.

Zayn manages to turn his head, and looks at Harry with glossy eyes and red cheeks. “Then don’t” he whispers “I don’t need your restraint. I need _you_ ”

Harry keeps him cuffed to the headboard, and then everything escalates even quicker than before.

He tears his suitcase apart in the haste of finding lube and a condom— _why did I even bring these, I didn’t think this could ever happen, and I haven’t been with anyone ever since him._

“Yes” Zayn breathes when he sees what Harry’s retrieved “Yes, Harry, please, now, please”

Harry leaves that thought hanging and scrambles to climb on the bed behind Zayn again. “I’m not gonna be gentle” Harry warns him “I’m too fucking angry to be”

Zayn nods frantically. “I don’t want gentle. I want it rough, and you know that. Say my name, this time. Not _Erik_. Not _Chameleon_. My _name_ ”

Harry coats his fingers in lube, and slides two at once inside Zayn. “Zayn” he says at the same time, hovering over Zayn’s back with his lips next to his ear.

Zayn whimper and shudders, and for a moment Harry thinks he’s come already from the way his eyes roll back in his head.

But he hasn’t. He’s just there, taking Harry’s fingers, tight and warm like he also wasn’t with anyone after him. “Weren’t you with anyone?” Harry asks.

Zayn chuckles, panting. “I was in prison. You put me there”

“That doesn’t mean anything” Harry retorts, scissoring his fingers and already adding a third.

Zayn moans. “Yeah. It… it was there for me, if I wanted it. I didn’t. I didn’t want it”

“Why” Harry asks, demands.

“Because nothing’s ever enough” Zayn replies “No one else knows how”

“I know how” Harry says, crooking his fingers slowly and precisely, and Zayn’s whole back arches on a sob, a pant, a groan.

“Yes” Zayn gasps “Yes, you know”

Harry doesn’t prepare Zayn more than that, because he knows the tell-tale signs, no matter how much he’s convinced himself that he forgot them. He knows when Zayn’s ready, and Zayn’s been ready before they even started whatever this is.

So Harry wears the condom, and slams inside Zayn without warning, in one long thrust, gripping Zayn’s hips as hard as he can, to leave bruises.

Zayn screams and arches his back again, the handcuffs rattling against the headboard. Harry moulds his chest to Zayn’s back, and starts pounding, hoping to make him scream more.

“Yes, yes, yes” Zayn is chanting “Yes, so good, it hurts so good, I missed it, I missed y…”  
“Shut up” Harry replies instantly, because he doesn’t wanna hear _that_ “Shut up”

Zayn snaps his mouth shut and nods. They don’t speak anymore, and Harry can hear every single sound they’re making, the wet slapping of skin against skin, the whimpers and moans coming from Zayn’s lips, Harry’s own grunts. Zayn keeps saying “Yes” and “Please” and “More”, and Harry’s angry, but he still obliges and still makes sure Zayn’s always there with him, taking it and loving it.

It ends too soon. “I wanna come, Harry, make me come, please, please, please” Zayn murmurs, his wrists red where they’re straining against the restraints.

Harry nods. He wraps a hand around Zayn’s dick, and he doesn’t even need to tug. As soon as he touches Zayn, Zayn lets out a groan and comes, spilling over the headboard in front of him, his whole body arching against Harry’s, his head flung backwards on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry stares at Zayn, at his face so close to his, at his tattooed body. “Zayn” he says, not leaving Zayn’s dick alone even now that it’s spent, because Zayn deserves it, deserves all of it “Zayn Malik” he repeats, over and over, feeling Zayn squirm under his touch now that his dick is so sensitive, but not even close to begging Harry to stop.

“Can you come again, Zayn?” Harry murmurs, softer, so much softer than all the shouting he’s done until now.

Zayn nods, shivering and still moaning.

“Zayn” Harry says again “Zayn”

And Zayn comes again, dry, with a small wail, clenching painfully around Harry, who also lets go and comes inside the condom, snapping his hips forward and hitting Zayn’s spot again and again.

Zayn gasps for air, his mouth open wide, and Harry settles a hand on Zayn’s chest to keep him against himself and not letting him collapse against the headboard.

Then, slowly, he picks up the small key and opens the handcuffs, leaving them hung on the headboard and stroking the signs on Zayn’s now free wrists.

He takes care of laying Zayn down, always against his chest, and they don’t speak, they just pant and recover their breaths, Harry’s hands roaming up and down Zayn’s arms and sides and legs, his fingers through Zayn’s hair.

“You still got it” Zayn chuckles after a while. His back is still moulded to Harry’s chest, so Harry can’t see his face. He doesn’t need to, not now.

Harry chuckles back, and doesn’t reply.

“I’m… I’m sorry I lied” Zayn says then.

Harry stays silent for a while. “Okay” he just says then “Don’t lie to me ever again, Zayn. This is more than just you and me and our fucked-up relationship”

Zayn nods, the hair on the nape of his neck brushing Harry’s nose. “Will you keep saying my name?”

“Yes, Zayn” Harry replies, wondering where the fuck this obsession with his name came from “I’ll say your name. Zayn. Zayn Malik. The bane of my fucking existence”

Zayn chuckles, and Harry holds him just a little bit tighter.

\--

> Zayn didn’t have any friends, but if he’d had them, they would have all told him that he was getting himself into some major metaphorical shithole.
> 
> He’d been seeing Harry for three weeks now, and Harry was incredibly, absurdly cute, and Harry still thought his name was Erik Zaidi.
> 
> Zayn had been battling something dangerously close to a moral conundrum for a while.
> 
> Because he loved the feeling of being there, deceiving SSA Harry Styles on a daily basis and without him suspecting even the slightest thing was wrong. But Zayn also liked being with _Harry_.
> 
> Harry never talked about his cases, so Zayn didn’t know how far into the Chameleon investigation he’d gotten. From the way Harry didn’t manage to get closer to the Chameleon in the last heists, though, Zayn could imagine Harry wasn’t having a pleasant time at work.
> 
> _SSA Harry Styles taking more than a month, and still not catching the suspect. Still not_ having _a suspect._
> 
> Zayn hated himself for the fact that thinking about Harry being upset about the case didn’t give him the usual light-headedness feeling anymore.
> 
> Zayn had been even more inventive in his bank jobs than usual.
> 
> He’d started using costumes that would appeal to Harry’s own likings.
> 
> Harry told him he liked the Phantom of the Opera? Zayn would dress himself as the Phantom of the Opera for a robbery.
> 
> Harry said his favourite book was _A Tale of Two Cities_? Zayn robbed a bank disguised as Charles fucking Dickens.
> 
> The hints were all there for Harry to catch them. But Harry wasn’t catching anything, because he probably trusted Zayn, _Erik_ , the guy he was dating, so much that the thought the robbery costumes could be linked to something he told Zayn never fucking crossed his mind.
> 
> And so they kept being there, Zayn one single tiny step ahead, and Harry one single tiny step behind, pushing and pulling until the end of time, and pushing and pulling at each other in bed as well.
> 
> Zayn never fell asleep before Harry. And when Harry was asleep, his face serene and quiet next to Zayn, Zayn spent his time looking at him and hating the tiny bit of guilt surfacing for that whole charade he was pulling on Harry.
> 
> Both charades, actually.
> 
> Zayn would never hear Harry say his name, not when he came inside him, not when he laughed, not ever. The thought made him so sad he felt like crying, sometimes, when Harry smiled and called him Erik.
> 
> But Zayn knew that he’d never get to hear Harry say his name, not until the day SSA Harry Styles would finally catch the Chameleon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you're thinking!


	4. Legally punishable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fucking _love_ Yorkshire” Zayn announces.  
> “Yeah” Louis clears his throat “Harry knows. He asked for it when the hotel staff asked what we wanted for breakfast”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers as listed at the beginning of this fic apply.

Harry wakes up alone in bed, and the first thing he does is panic.

_What did I do what did I do what the fuck did I do where is he where is he_.

He quickly throws back the bed covers, and stares at his ankle monitor. The light is still green, meaning that Zayn hasn’t wandered too far.

“I’m here, get a grip” he hears, coming from the direction of the dresser.

Zayn is there, giving Harry his back. He’s completely dressed, in his skinnies, an MTV tank top, and his combat boots. His hair is not tied in the usual topknot, but instead it’s loose, curling a bit.

_How the fuck am I gonna look at him in the face again?_

“If you’re thinking that you don’t know how to look at me in the face anymore, please stop” Zayn says, like he’s reading Harry’s mind “We did nothing we didn’t want. Both of us. It’s cool. It’s nothing”

_Nothing_.

Harry doesn’t reply, but he finally sees what Zayn’s doing next to the dresser. He has the case documentation open, and he’s staring at some pictures. Harry can’t make out if they’re the murder ones, or the robbery ones. Either way, Zayn has a small frown on his face, which Harry can see in the reflection of the mirror on top of the dresser, and he’s not looking at Harry.

“Are you…” Harry tries, and his voice fails him. He clears his throat. “Are you okay?”

Zayn finally raises his eyes from the papers, and grins at Harry in the mirror. “Peachy. Well-fucked and not a care in the fucking world” he replies.

Harry doesn’t know if he believes him. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking, because to Harry, _that_ wasn’t just a good fuck and a way to release stress. And the thought that maybe it was just that, for Zayn, it kills him a little.

It’s not time for talking about their feelings, or lack thereof, now. “What are you doing?” he asks Zayn instead.

Zayn turns, still frowning. “I’ve been thinking” he says “About these girls. I dunno, there _has_ to be a connection with Anton, if he’s really the murderer as well. They can’t be random. He’s thinking about every single small detail. Well, except the details on his shitty costume replicas, but that’s just ‘cause he sucks at that. For the rest, though, _everything_ is thought-out. The murders have to be as well”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I agree”

“SSA Harry Styles agreeing with me!” Zayn gasps bringing a hand to his chest “Next thing I know, pigs will fly”

“Go fuck yourself” Harry replies, throwing a pillow at him.

Zayn ducks, and laughs. Harry watches him as his eyes crinkle and his tongue peeks behind his teeth, and his heart does a series of annoying somersaults. _Stop it, Harry. It was nothing. He said so himself. And he’s gonna go back to jail. There’s no future for the fucking romance you built in your head two years ago_.

“Get dressed, Harry Styles” Zayn says at last “Your Irish friend has already come to wake you up twice”

Harry’s stomach lurches. “Niall? Did he… did he _see_ me?”

Zayn grins. “Nice and good, babe. I could have told him you were showering. But it was more fun to mind my own business, so he came in and saw both of us stark naked and with your handcuffs still hanging there on the headboard”

_Fuck_ , Harry thinks, and throws another pillow at Zayn.

*

When they both show up in the hotel’s breakfast room, Harry has to fight himself not to avert his eyes from Louis’s, Liam’s and Niall’s.

They’re sitting at a table for five, breakfast in front of them next to the whole case documentation, and they all arch their eyebrows at Harry at the same time.

Harry ignores them, and sits down, pouring himself some coffee and then filling a mug of tea for Zayn. Zayn sits down next to him, seemingly unperturbed, and accepts the tea. He takes a sip, and his eyes roll. “I fucking _love_ Yorkshire” he announces.

“Yeah” Louis clears his throat “Harry knows. He asked for it when the hotel staff asked what we wanted for breakfast”

Harry tries not to choke on his toast, and fails. Zayn laughs and pats him on the back, and when Harry recovers and looks at him, there’s a different kind of smile on Zayn’s face. It’s not a grin and not a defiant chuckle. It’s more… _fond_. Or maybe Harry is just losing his mental faculties after the mind-blowing sex they had the night before.

“So” Louis says “We heard screams last night, the hotel staff probably thought someone was being gutted, but we know better. And our lovely Niall here looks a bit traumatised. Did you two finally have sex and solve your issues?”

“Yes!” Zayn exclaims, standing up.

“Zayn” Harry growls. What the _fuck_ is he doing, admitting it just like that?

Zayn shakes his head. “No no no, Harry, yes!” he says, stabbing a finger on one of the murder pictures “I _knew_ there was a connection!”

Harry arches an eyebrow. Zayn looks like a brand new nominated officer solving his first case and catching the vicious criminals who stole someone’s cat. “Zayn?” he says, clearing his throat and kinda thankful Zayn has diverted the attention from Louis’s comment. “Care to elaborate?”

Zayn sits down again, and licks his lips, his eyes sparkling. “Okay, this is crazy and probably stupid, but…”

“Our boss is also crazy and probably stupid” Louis retorts with an angelic grin directed at Harry “So please, carry on”

Harry kicks him under the table, and gets Liam instead. “Ouch! I didn’t even fucking _say_ anything!”

Harry shrugs, not feeling guilty in the slightest. “I’m sure you _thought_ something”

“Thoughts are not legally punishable!” Liam complains.

“Lads?” Zayn growls “Will you fucking _listen_ to me?”

They all shut up, and Harry’s insides twist a little when he hears Zayn call them ‘lads’, like _Harry_ always calls them. Like they’re a team. Like they’re friends.

Zayn sighs and speaks again. “Anton started out as just a regular at the _Red Cherry_ , okay? But then he made friends with McAnders. So much that he bought part of the place. Anton’s… older than me. He’s forty-one this year, I believe”

Harry wants to hit something. _Forty-one? What was Zayn doing with someone so much_ older _than him?_

Zayn seems to understand what Harry’s thinking, again, because his cheeks go a bit red, and he nods. “I know. I… I needed money, Harry. I was in a bad place, and the _Red Cherry_ income was fucking nothing. I couldn’t pay rent anymore, and I couldn’t ask my family for help, because they… they’re better off without me, as you can imagine” he says with a sad frown “So when Anton showed me that he… that he liked me, or he liked Veronica, whatever, I moved in with him and quit the _Red Cherry_. I thought Anton would be my sugar daddy, and I would be fucking peachy”

Harry’s head—and heart—hurts. How had he not noticed? But he couldn’t notice, because he didn’t even know Zayn’s _name_ at the time, and anyway Zayn has said that he and Anton had already stopped being a thing when Harry and Zayn first actually met. They were sharing a house and nothing more by then.

“But you weren’t peachy” Niall tells Zayn, more gently than Harry would.

Zayn shakes his head. “No. Because a couple of months after I moved in with him, I realized Anton didn’t have all the money he let on. He was always so well-dressed, and he had bought part of the _Red Cherry_ , what was I supposed to think? But he was just relying on family money, and even that was running out, because he wasn’t fucking able to keep a job”

Zayn takes a breath, and Harry can’t stand the sadness he can see on Zayn’s face. “He was a good person, though. I thought he was, at least” he keeps going “So we broke up, but I kept staying with him. And I did my first heist. But that’s not the point. I just wanted to be clear on what was going on between me and him” he adds, finally looking at Harry.

Harry just nods, because he’s not sure his voice is working properly right now.

“So what _is_ the point?” Louis asks, not unkindly.

“Yeah” Zayn nods “The point is that he partly owned the _Red Cherry_ , and one of the things he took care of in there was revising job applications”

Harry immediately understands where this is going, but he lets Zayn speak anyway. “These three girls. Amber, Linda and Gretchen. They applied to be burlesque dancers at the _Red Cherry_ ” Zayn says at last “Anton didn’t hire them, said he didn’t like their style. I wasn’t there, so I never saw them in person. But I saw their pictures Anton showed me afterwards, and I told him he was fucking stupid, because those girls were beautiful and if they knew how to pose that way for a picture, then they knew how to pose for a live crowd”

Niall is already typing on his laptop while Zayn finishes the story, and he nods. “Yes. Yes, Zayn’s right. All three victims applied to work at the _Red Cherry_. We didn’t notice before because they did so two years ago, and there’s close to no record of it, because they only sent their CV and a photoshoot, via email, and not to the actual _Red Cherry_ address” he says, reading from his laptop “They sent their material to a private email”

“It’s Anton’s” Zayn nods “The Internet never fucking worked at the club ‘cause it’s in a fucking basement and McAnders didn’t care about having good data coverage. So the job applications were sent to Anton’s private email” his eyes go wide “Niall, you have to look for the other girl. There was another girl. I remember. Anton refused four job applications out of ten that month. Afterwards he sold his part of the club back to McAnders, because he didn’t wanna deal with it anymore after I stopped working there”

There’s urgency in Zayn’s tone, and Harry immediately understands that as well. “It’s been three days since the last robbery and murder. It was always three days between one robbery-murder and the other” Harry says “Grayson’s gonna try to kill someone else today”

“Fuck” Niall hisses, and starts scrolling.

While Niall does his tech thing, Harry picks up a map and stares at the locations of the three already robbed banks. If there’s gonna be a new murder, there’s also gonna be a new heist. Harry stares and stares at the map, trying to find _something_ , something that would tell him which bank is gonna be next.

He feels Zayn lean next to him, also staring at the map. He’s wearing Harry’s cologne, and the thought distracts him. He tries to stay focused anyway.

Zayn shakes his head. “Harry? Do you remember when you said the murderer-robber was… a zealot?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Why?”

“Because I think I’m losing my mind, but…” Zayn murmurs, but he doesn’t finish the sentence. He just retrieves a marker from the centre of the table, and connects the dots of the three bank locations.

Harry’s stomach goes upside down when he understands.

The three locations on the Liverpool map form two strokes of a letter. Zayn keeps going after the third point, and the letter is complete now. It’s a Z.

Zayn circles a point at the end of the letter. “This is the next bank” he just says “Lloyd bank”

Harry’s temples are pulsing. _It’s a Z, Z for Zayn, this person is obsessed, this is fucking dangerous_.

“Let me go there, babe” Zayn says then, and Harry almost has a stroke, for the suggestion and the pet name which has just come out of Zayn’s lips so carelessly, like the last two years have never passed.

“What?” Harry hisses “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“No!” Zayn exclaims “Listen, Harry. Anton is doing all of this because he wants my attention, yeah? If I go to the bank and he sees me, he’s not gonna try anything. He’s gonna want to _talk_ to me. I’m gonna keep him there, and you can catch him”

“It’s too fucking dangerous” Harry replies stubbornly, even though he sees how it’s a good plan.

Zayn shrugs. “You’re gonna be there. SSA Harry Styles never fails, does he?”

Louis sighs. “We might not have another choice with this, Harry” he says reluctantly “Zayn’s right. He’s our best chance to catch this motherfucker before he attempts at wreaking havoc in another bank, and then flee to the next girl’s house while nobody notices he’s gone”

“Megan Orthel” Niall says at last “The fourth girl who applied at the _Red Cherry_ is Megan Orthel, and she lives in Wavertree Boulevard, here in Liverpool”

Harry has to nod at last. “Send a team from the Liverpool PD to her house, to make sure she’s safe” he tells Liam. Liam nods, and pulls out his phone, already dialling the Liverpool precinct’s number. “We’ll go to the bank. All of us. I need my best men for this” Harry then adds “And if we’re lucky, we’ll catch Anton Grayson before he can even turn to go to Megan Orthel’s place”

They all nod, Zayn included. “I need to get ready” Zayn says then “Make myself into two-years-ago Zayn Malik. It’ll make him weaker, to see me as I was when I was with him”

Harry agrees, rationally, but irrationally, he doesn’t want to see it. He forces himself to nod again.

\--

> They’d been fucking for forever, and Zayn’s knees hurt from being on his hands and knees of the carpet in Harry’s bedroom for so long.
> 
> Harry was pushing inside him at a torturously slow pace, always able to give Zayn just a tiny bit less than he wanted, just a tiny bit gentler than he wanted, just a tiny bit _less_.
> 
> Zayn reckoned it was what Harry felt every time the Chameleon gave him a hint just small enough that Harry would get close, but not enough to discover who he was.
> 
> _How bad could it be if I just told him?_ , Zayn thought.
> 
> It wasn’t the first time. He was tired of this whole stunt, and he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d fallen for Harry, hard. For his curls, his smiles, his roughness in bed and gentleness afterwards.
> 
> Like all the other times, Zayn bit his tongue, because he knew that whatever they had would be irreparably broken once Harry found out who the Chameleon really was.
> 
> So he kept giving Harry hints that Harry didn’t catch, and kept him on his toes, in a never-ending circle. He knew Harry was losing his patience.
> 
> So was Zayn. Every time the name “Erik” left Harry’s lips.
> 
> _I’m Zayn. Say my name. Say my name._
> 
> Afterwards, when they both came hard and Harry was cradling Zayn in his lap, running his long fingers up and down his arms, they spoke about their past.
> 
> Harry told Zayn about his loving family, about his incredibly clever friends and co-workers. About Niall with a huge brain and an Apple obsession. About Liam and his unbroken video-game records. About Louis and his witty retorts that made even the worst case a little bit lighter.
> 
> Zayn omitted stuff, but he didn’t lie to Harry that night. He told him that he didn’t talk to his family anymore. He told him that he didn’t have that many friends. He told him he used to have a job he loved but didn’t need anymore.
> 
> Well into the night, Harry’s hands were still roaming up and down on Zayn’s arms. “Did you get a new tattoo?” Harry asked, chuckling.
> 
> Zayn didn’t raise his face from where he was almost falling asleep on Harry’s chest. “Yeah” he yawned “Sorry, I told you we could go get one together. I got inspired for this one and I just went”
> 
> “What’s it mean?”
> 
> “It’s a checkerboard. Because sometimes I’m black, and sometimes I’m white. I’m many things, Harry Styles”
> 
> Harry chuckled again. “You are indeed, Erik Zaidi”
> 
> If Zayn had raised his head from Harry’s chest that night, he would have seen something else in his eyes. He would have seen SSA Harry Styles finally finding the tiny piece of the puzzle he needed.

\--

“I hate this idea” Harry declares while he watches Zayn ‘get ready’ in their hotel room.

Zayn’s beard is not there anymore, since he shaved it the day before to become Veronica for the show. Now he’s gluing a fake one on his face, looking at himself in the mirror, and when he’s done, it looks _exactly_ like Zayn’s own beard, only a bit thinner than Harry knows he likes it nowadays.

“I know” Zayn replies, starting to fuss with his hair and a comb. “I don’t like it either. But don’t you worry, SSA Harry Styles. I won’t tell anyone that I caught this criminal for you. Your record will be untouched”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t _care_ about my fucking record, Zayn” he says “This is dangerous”

Zayn chuckles, and Harry realizes he’s covering his side shavings with his own hair, pinning it so that it looks like he just has long hair, no shavings at all. The pins aren’t visible, not even from where Harry is, right at Zayn’s side. Harry feels a pang in his chest, recognizing the hair Zayn had two years earlier with _him_ as well. Long and smooth and slightly curly after Harry made him sweat and pulled at it for hours on end.

Zayn is a mind reader, because he grins. “Remembering my hair of the times that were?”

“Yeah” Harry admits.

He’s done fucking denying everything. And if all goes well, this is the _last_ day he’ll spend with Zayn.

Zayn sees even _that_ thought on Harry’s face. “Aw, don’t be sad” he says with a grin, pulling a little at Harry’s hair “Maybe I’ll ask the NCA director to make me spend the rest of this one year as a consultant for your team. God knows it’ll be _such_ a punishment, being glued to your hip for a _whole_ year” he sighs.

Harry, despite it all, laughs. “You’re a little shit” he declares “But I kinda missed you”

Zayn freezes for a moment, and then smiles. “Yeah. I kinda missed you too. Jail is boring. No one chasing me. No one hunting me down and making my life a whirlwind of adrenaline rushes”

“Shut up” Harry says, and backs Zayn into the dresser, until all the drawers rattle. “Shut up, Zayn Malik” he repeats, whispering it on Zayn’s lips.

Zayn grins. “Gonna make my fake beard fall, babe”

“I’m sure you can glue it back together” Harry retorts, and kisses him.

It’s always something, when Harry kisses Zayn. It’s like the two years that separated them never passed, and it’s also like a whole lifetime passed. Because before, Zayn was Erik Zaidi, a guy Harry was falling in love with, a guy who then betrayed him. But now, Zayn isn’t wearing a disguise, and the fake beard doesn’t count. He’s just Zayn Malik, and Harry knows there are no lies between them, not anymore.

Zayn swirls his tongue around Harry’s for one more moment, and then smiles. “I’m so fucking good. The beard stayed” he declares.

Harry chuckles. “You know” he says at last, his heart thumping louder because of just _what_ he’s about to admit “Sometimes I think that even if you told me that you were the Chameleon, I wouldn’t have minded much. I would have waited for you to get out”

Zayn’s expression completely closes off when Harry is done revealing the biggest, most shameful thing an agent could ever say. That he didn’t care Zayn was a criminal, not really. Because Zayn wasn’t only Harry’s almost-failure as an agent. Zayn is also Harry’s _humanity_ , the blur of Harry’s lines, because he can be the most promising agent in the whole NCA, but he’s still just a fucking human being, and Zayn knows it and probably, _probably_ , that’s why he likes Harry. If he even does, that is.

Zayn pushes Harry away, not harshly, but firmly. “Don’t fucking say things that you can’t ever mean, Harry Styles” he says coldly, turning to give Harry his back and blatantly pretend he’s busy with the beard.

“Zayn, I… I mean it”

Zayn chuckles bitterly. “No you don’t” he replies “Now let’s go. I don’t want any other girl to die ‘cause Anton fucking Grayson has a crush on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one to go!   
> Let me know what you're thinking :)  
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.


	5. Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He said my name, my name’s so lovely on his lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers stated at the beginning of this fic apply.

“He’s gonna be okay, Haz” Niall whispers to Harry as they hide in their parked car, together with a whole other police squad, waiting for Harry’s command in their own plain cars, not to alert the suspect.

Zayn is right in front of the bank, smoking with his back leaned into the wall where the entrance is. He’s whistling to himself, and he seems not to have a care in the fucking world. Harry knows him, though, and he knows Zayn does.

“How can you be sure?” Harry asks Niall, reluctantly.

The half conversation he’s had with Zayn in their hotel room keeps playing around in his head. Does Zayn really not believe Harry would have waited for him? Is it not enough for him? He must know by that point that Harry has always been too far gone for Zayn, and that Harry couldn’t avoid him the sentence, but he also understands Zayn is paying for his crimes and deserves a good, new life once the sentence will be over. A life with _Harry_ , if he wants.

Maybe he doesn’t want, and that’s the problem.

Harry shakes his head. He needs to stay focused. “He’s gonna be fine” Louis says too “We’re all here. Anton Grayson is _one_ man. And he’s probably in love with Zayn or summat. He won’t try anything against him”

Harry doesn’t reply. The thought of that man’s hands on Zayn makes his skin crawl.

That’s when they see someone approach Zayn. “Potential suspect approaching our agent” Niall swiftly murmurs in the transmitter, and Harry doesn’t even think about him calling Zayn ‘our agent’, because he’s too busy looking at Zayn, making sure he’s okay.

The man stops right next to Zayn, and Harry sees he’s quite handsome, with black hair entwined with strands of grey, a thinly trimmed beard, the lean body of someone who works out at least a little, and he’s fucking wearing _Zayn’s_ clothes.

Harry remembers them, because those were clothes Zayn had two years ago. The ACDC t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The skinnies with the cuts on the thighs. The combat boots. Even the hair looks like Zayn’s, long and tied in a lazy half-ponytail at the top.

Zayn chuckles. “Fucking hell, Ant, you’re really going for it, ain’t you” he comments, crushing his cigarette under the sole of his boot “Where’d you get my clothes?”

Anton Grayson licks his own lips. “You left them at home” he says “You’re here. I haven’t seen you in two years. But you’re here. You understood it was me. I knew you would”

Zayn grins. “Well, you’ve always been kinda shit with costumes. And you were the only one who knew about them. ‘S not rocket science” he says calmly.

_Don’t overdo it don’t make him angry please please please_ , Harry thinks.

Grayson nods. “You vanished into thin fucking air, Zayn. Did you go away with that… that fucking cop you were seeing? One day you just didn’t come home. I couldn’t find you. I went mad over it”

Zayn laughs. “Went away with the cop?” he says “Oh, Jesus. No. The cop understood who I was and he put me in fucking jail, Anton. That’s why I didn’t come back”

Grayson gapes. “J-Jail?”

Zayn shrugs. “Yep. Well, it’s fair you didn’t know. He told me that he never revealed my identity. Out of spite, so I couldn’t be famous with my own name. He always has this habit of not saying my fucking name even now that he knows it. Makes me flip”

_No, fuck, no no no_ , Harry thinks gripping the handle of his car door tightly, because he can see the change in Grayson’s expression when he realizes Zayn is speaking in the _present tense_.

“Now?” Grayson says, growls “You’re still seeing him?”

Zayn frowns. _Please Zayn lie, fucking_ lie _as only you know how, lie lie lie_. “No, I…” Zayn says, and then his back straightens, and his eyes send up a storm “No actually you know what? I’m sick of fucking lying. Yes, Ant, I’m still fucking seeing him, I’m still fucking _fucking_ him, and that’s the tea”

“Go go go” Niall hisses in the transmitter “Fuck”

_Fuck. Of all the times._ Now _you gotta start saying the truth._ Harry grunts a curse and silently gets out of the car, his gun pointed at Anton Grayson who is giving him his back.

Zayn sees Harry, but he keeps his eyes on him for a split second too much, because Grayson realizes Zayn’s looking at something behind him, and turns.

He sees Harry and his team with their guns out. He also sees the other police officers surrounding him.

But he’s a loose cannon in that moment, so he does what every loose cannon does.

He shouts, takes out a gun, and grabs for Zayn, pointing the gun right under Zayn’s chin.

\--

> Zayn frowned a little when he saw Harry come towards him in the middle of the third Avenue. He told him he was at work, didn’t he?
> 
> “Babe?” Zayn said, smiling. He hadn’t seen Harry in three days, and he’d missed him. “Whatcha doing here?”
> 
> “Zayn Malik” Harry said coldly, and Zayn’s heart did something like a flutter in his chest.
> 
> _He said my name, my name’s so lovely on his lips._
> 
> Only then did he realize what he was really hearing, and that Harry was not alone. His friends and co-workers, the ones Zayn had only seen in pictures, were with him.
> 
> “Babe? What was that?” Zayn asked, tried.
> 
> Harry shook his head. Zayn had never seen his face so blank. Harry’s face was always so expressive, Zayn liked it loads.
> 
> “Zayn Malik” Harry said again, and the next moment he was handcuffing him with his own hands “You’re under arrest for a series of thirty-four robberies across the country”
> 
> Zayn did his best to keep frowning. “Harry, what?”
> 
> Harry chuckled, bitterly and horribly, and shook his head again. “You’re the fucking Chameleon, _Erik_ ” he said to Zayn’s ear in a hiss “And you almost got me. Almost. That new tattoo that you got? I saw it somewhere else. On the arm of the Chameleon dressed as a fucking secretary. You fooled me nice and good, Zayn Malik. I bet you were laughing your fucking arse off, giving me hints I didn't catch. But in the end I did. I caught the only hint you didn’t plan on giving me. You gave yourself away. And Harry Styles can’t be fooled for long”
> 
> There was hurt in Harry’s voice, and Zayn’s name on his lips was lovely, but Zayn couldn’t let SSA Harry Styles win, not even if he was finally catching the Chameleon.
> 
> They were never meant to have a future, were they?
> 
> So he produced himself in his best grin, and looked at Harry in the eyes. “We were quite the couple, weren’t we, SSA Harry Styles?” he said “Going around in circles around each other and then coming together in bed without our masks on. But I _won_ , Harry. Even as you’re arresting me, I’m winning. There you have it, Harry Styles. Fucking romance, innit”

\--

Harry’s insides go to mush, and he holds his gun tighter, afraid that the sweat on his palms will make it slip from his grasp like a young officer on his first day.

Zayn doesn’t look scared. He’s just there, motionless in Anton Grayson’s hands and with a gun pointed at his chin, and he looks calm. He’s looking at Harry.

Harry feels like throwing up. “Anton Grayson, drop your weapon!” he shouts “It’s over, okay? Let Zayn go. You’re surrounded”

Grayson laughs. “ _You_ drop your weapon or I’ll blow his fucking head!”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Didn’t you do all this ‘cause you loved me?” he asks Anton.

_Stop talking, Zayn, fuck, stop fucking talking for once in your fucking life_ , Harry tells him with his eyes, suppressing the urge to just go and shake Zayn by the shoulders.

Anton frowns. “Yes!” he screams “Yes, but you never loved me back. You were always with _him_ ” he points at Harry with his head “I was right there, living with you, and you wouldn’t even bring him to our place and introduce us! I didn’t count _shit_ for you!”

Zayn sighs. How can he be so fucking calm? “How the hell could I do that, mate? ‘Hey, babe, teeny tiny detail. I live with a forty-year-old who tried and failed to be my sugar daddy. Hope it’s not a problem. Wanna come over for dinner?’. Come _on_ , Ant. Not even _you_ are that stupid”

“Zayn, for Christ’s sake, _stop talking_ ” Louis grits out, his gun still perfectly aimed.

Grayson shakes Zayn a little, making him rattle. He’s so… _big_ , compared to Zayn. He’s tall and broad, and those clothes look ridiculous on him. They’re really Zayn’s, because they’re too tight and too short on him. Harry wonders what the fuck went wrong in this man’s mind that led him to become a bank robber _and_ a murderer. And then realizes that it’s the same thing that led Harry to become a worse cop, a stupid teenager in love who doesn’t recognize his clues. _Zayn_ happened.

“You never loved me” Anton tells Zayn.

Zayn bats his eyelashes. “I know” he says, more seriously “I was stupid, Ant. Now I see it. Since… since you killed that first girl, I… I never stopped thinking about you”

Harry wants to scream.

“He’s fucking _acting_ ” Niall whispers to Harry. He nods, and feels his gun start to weigh in his hands. He keeps it pointed, and raises a hand to signal to everybody to just fucking _stop_ and let Zayn do whatever he’s doing.

Grayson frowns. “You did?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah. You killed those girls for me, right? I… I appreciated it. I thought, no one ever loved me like this, that they would kill for me. And I realized I still loved you in return, even after all this time”

Grayson nods. He’s sweating, and his hand is starting to shake. “I knew you would see me” he tells Zayn “That’s why I killed those girls”

Zayn looks at Harry for just a moment. _You got your confession, SSA Harry Styles_ , his eyes say.

And then Zayn smiles at Grayson, with the smile that carved holes inside Harry’s heart since the first time he ever saw it. Zayn leans in, and kisses Grayson.

Harry is about to just fucking shoot, but of course he doesn’t. He’s a worse cop because of Zayn, but not _that_ bad yet, even if jealousy is the only thing he feels right then.

“What the fu…” Liam mutters.

Zayn grins in the kiss he’s sharing with Grayson. Harry knows that grin, because it’s the grin that Zayn has had for _him_ more than once, a grin that says _I won_.

And Zayn wins, because Grayson has lowered his gun, and Zayn has noticed. He takes the gun from Grayson’s hands before Grayson can even realize, and then hits him on the head with it.

Grayson shouts, and then falls to the ground, unconscious.

Zayn coughs and splutters, wiping at his mouth with a grimace, and Harry moves. “Cuff him, now!” he shouts at everybody. Niall and Louis are quick to hover over Grayson and put him in handcuffs. Grayson starts to come to, and he frowns, probably not understanding what happened.

Harry doesn’t care. He just sees his team bring the suspect away, and then focuses on Zayn. “Are you okay?” he asks, his heart coming out of his eyes.

Zayn nods. “Yeah. Tasted fucking horrible though. Same as always”

Harry chuckles. It’s a relieved sigh, more like, but he can’t speak now that his brain is slowly processing that Zayn risked his life and managed to make it out safe and sound basically by himself.

“I’m good, ain’t I?” Zayn grins.

Harry laughs. “Yeah” he sighs “You are”

The police officers slowly disperse after that. Harry sees Liam, Louis and Niall roughly stuff Grayson into their car. “Are you okay on your own?” Louis asks.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I’ll see you at the precinct for debriefing”

Louis nods too, and then, before getting in the car, he gives Zayn a thumbs up and a grin of his own. “That was _sick_ , mate!” he shouts, and then goes before Harry has a chance to say anything.

Zayn is grinning widely when Harry finally looks at him again. “So now you even have my team on your side” he tells Zayn.

Zayn sighs. “Whatcha gonna do, SSA Harry Styles” he says “I’m just too fucking adorable”

“Yeah” Harry murmurs “Zayn? Can we… can we talk?”

Zayn nods. They sit on a bench across the street, and it’s a bit surreal to Harry, that they’re just there like two normal people, sitting on benches in the sun and about to talk. If he ignores the monitor bothering his ankle, they could really _be_ two normal people.

“About what I said earlier” Harry says slowly.

Zayn sighs. “Harry. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. It was the worry, the fear, whatever, that made you say it”

“No!” Harry exclaims “Zayn, I… I meant it. I know it’s not right, I know it makes me a shitty cop, but I meant it. I would have waited. And I did, in a way. But I didn’t know I was doing it, because for these whole two years, I’ve been convinced that I was only a fucking pawn in your scheme of spiting the police and _me_ ”

Zayn laughs bitterly. “A pawn. You thought you were a fucking _pawn_ ”

“Well, it’s not like you ever told me otherwise. I remember what you told me when I arrested you. You told me that you won. I remember the way you looked at me. Like I was a game you played, and won. You did” Harry says, sadly “You did, and it broke my heart”

Zayn emits a low grunt and stands up, his jaw set and a stubborn expression in his eyes. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, declare my fucking love for you and ask you to kindly wait _ten years_ for me?” he exclaims, opening his arms “You’re NCA, Harry, I could never fucking ask you to do that. And besides, nobody could ever love anyone that much. Nobody could ever love _me_ that much”

Harry stands up from the bench as well. _This is it, isn’t it. This is the part where I make a fool of myself for him._ “I did!” he shouts in Zayn’s face “I would have fucking waited for you _a hundred years_ if it meant that you really loved me, and I wouldn’t even have cared that you’re the biggest fucking robber in the country!”

“I was a _convicted criminal_ , Harry. Still am. There’s no place anywhere for this Romeo and Juliet kinda shit, and you know that” Zayn says coldly, lowering his gaze to the floor like the words are _costing_ him more than he lets on.

Harry sighs, and grabs Zayn’s chin to make him look at him in the eyes. “I don’t care” he says calmly “You did something wrong, but you didn’t kill anyone. And you’re paying for what you did. I would have waited, if it meant you understood how bad you fucked up your life”

“I understood alright, Haz” Zayn laughs bitterly “I fucked up. I knew I was good, and the money got to my head. And then you started hunting me, and I was always a step ahead of you, but you were always _one single tiny step_ behind me, and I was barely getting out every time, and that had never happened to me before. So I kept robbing, kept taunting you. I fucking fell in love with you before we ever really spoke, and once we did speak, I knew there was no future for us, so I hid who I was until I could. There you have it, SSA Harry Styles. Fucking romance, innit” he concludes, sending Harry a tentative smile, a smile so different from all the others Harry has ever seen.

“Would you do it again? Robbing? Be honest, Zayn. You know I’ll know if you lie” Harry asks, seriously, because what Zayn has said is true. Harry is still NCA, and he can’t, _can’t_ be with Zayn if Zayn still wants to live the kind of life he lived before.

Zayn grunts frustratedly and grabs Harry by the shoulders, shaking him. “Have you even _listened_ to me?” he shouts “I didn’t wanna do it anymore, already after my first two or three heists. I just kept doing it because it meant you would come after me! Jesus, Harry, you make me so fucking _mad_ that I wanna punch you in the face and snog you _at the same time_ ”

Harry laughs. It’s freeing, when he does, because that’s a weird declaration of love, but they haven’t ever been the most normal couple on Earth, and probably never will. So he laughs, and then kisses Zayn while Zayn _oof_ s and immediately wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, no questions asked.

“You gotta go back to prison now” Harry says after a while, looking at Zayn in the eyes “Spend your last year there. And I will fucking _wait_ for you to come out and start your new fucking life. With _me_. Because let’s be honest, Zayn. Neither of us thought I was waiting for you, and yet I was waiting for you anyway, while you though I wouldn’t, and I thought I wasn’t. So there you have it too, Zayn Malik. Fucking romance, innit”

Zayn chuckles. “Will you always say my name?” he asks in a whisper “You never did, when we were together, before. It made me so fucking mad, that you would say a fake name while you fucked me, kissed me and talked to me. I wanted to hear how my name sounded from your lips. And the only time that I did, it was the day everything broke between us”

Harry smiles. “Things have a way of mending themselves, sometimes” he declares “Zayn Malik” he then adds.

\--

**A year later**

“I can’t believe we’re finally free to be friends” Liam comments as they’re standing next to their car, outside the penitentiary.

Harry scoffs. “It’s not like you ever cared about the fact that you weren’t allowed to be _friends_ with Zayn” he replies “Do you think I didn’t see all the Tekken 3 matches you had together on the jet while you thought I was asleep?”

Liam whimpers a little. “It… it was nothing, I swear”

“Nothing was your score against him, more like” Louis says with a snicker.

Niall sighs. “Zayn’s a good egg, after all. I’m sure we all took our liking to him” he says, winking at Harry.

Harry chuckles. “I took my liking to him before it was even appropriate, yes”

“He said it” Louis sighs “He finally said it”

Harry shrugs, but hits him on the back of his head anyway.

The gates whir open. Harry doesn’t move, because he honestly can’t fucking believe it yet, that he’s there waiting for Zayn to come out of prison for good.

And there Zayn is, wearing his skinnies and tank top and leather jacket and combat boots, a brown box in his hands—because now he’s got more belongings, he’s got books Harry brought him, he’s got comics from Liam, and a couple dirty magazines courtesy of Louis, Harry’s sure—and a grin on his lips.

Zayn turns, prancing a bit backwards and whooping at the façade of the prison. “See you, losers!” he screams “I’m fucking free!”

“Shut up and get the hell out of here, Zayn!” the guard at the entrance replies.

Zayn laughs, and flips him off, but the guard just sighs and shakes his head.

_Yeah, he’s a lot, I know_ , Harry thinks empathically.

Zayn grins at Harry, and stars walking faster. When he’s still far, Harry takes out his phone—his brand new phone, because Zayn told him that if he got out and found Harry still with his old shitty phone, Harry might as well not bother to show up—and sends a text. _He’s out, here with me. You’ll see him tonight._

He receives a string of hearts and zipped-mouth emojis, and he wonders what Zayn will say when he’ll realize his solitude was self-inflicted, and while he thought his family hated him and didn’t want to speak to him, his little sister was looking for him everywhere, and failing. Harry found her, and the rest of Zayn’s family, and found out they were lovely people, very worried about Zayn’s fate, of which they knew _nothing_ about.

That day, many things would change. For good, this time.

Zayn finally reaches Harry, and stands there, box in hand and grin on his lips. “SSA Harry fucking Styles” he says, mockingly, like the first time Harry set foot in the penitentiary to see him.

Harry nods. “Zayn Malik” he just says, because he knows.

Zayn smiles a different kind of smile, and then shoves the box into Liam’s hands. “Hold this, mate” he says “I gotta snog the shit out of this one for a second”

Harry doesn’t have time to react before Zayn is flinging himself at him, kissing the living daylights out of him for real, with his hands keeping Harry’s face in place and his grin still on his lips.

Harry chuckles. “I might arrest you for assault” he says.

Zayn rolls his eyes and laughs. “You’d still have a criminal boyfriend. Nothing would change”

Harry kisses him again, while the lads produce themselves into gagging noises. “A criminal and a special agent” Harry says at last on Zayn’s lips “Fucking romance, innit”

Zayn grins. “Fucking romance, innit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's done. I'm so glad you all enjoyed it and kept giving me feedback, so let me know what you think about it now that everything's good and done! It's been extremely fun to write, so I hope you had fun reading it.
> 
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.
> 
> Till next time!


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